


Out of my Control

by WincestSounds (Cammerel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Erectile Dysfunction, Freckle Love, Incest, M/M, Not Established, PTSD, RP, SRSLY Sub!Dean, Spooning, Straight Winchesters, Top!Sam, Wincest - Freeform, one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/WincestSounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Dean’s back from Purgatory, he realizes that something’s changed between him and Sam. He can’t explain it, but he feels different. With his emotions twisted about from Purgatory, fighting to be with his brother, it seems that something has manifested, and he can’t stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Season:** 8
> 
>  **Spoiler Warning:** This might **NOT actually spoil anything** from Season 8. The RP was started about 2 eps in, if that. So if you know about Dean's problems post-Purgatory, you won't even have to worry about spoilers. This is mostly just centered around Wincest.

Between the easy food, violent children, and Sam’s admission to not searching for Dean, the older Winchester was _lost_. The road ahead was clear, but it was his insides that weren’t sure where to go. And he’d realized, from the moment his brother had hugged him, that there was some sort of _sliver_ of something there, or... maybe it was something that was _missing_. He wasn’t sure.

But there were these glimpses, real fast, some times short, but slow as summer, where he saw something else within Sam, or was it inside of **himself**? Whatever it was, he was starting to notice it more and more, as the days wore on.

It was a disconnect, it had to be something inside of **him** that was missing now. He still loved and adored Sam, as was his way, but longing for the man for a year, fighting endlessly, mercilessly, seeking any kind of comfort, even if it was in the stilling of another monster’s heart, he was beginning to need Sam.

Really, _really need him_. In a way that Dean’d never imagined before. He thought he could _pine_ for his brother before, _long for him_ , but now... Something was different. His feelings for his brother were changing, so much that–that Sam didn’t really feel like his _brother_ anymore. Dean couldn’t even explain it to himself, but he was seeing the larger man in a different light.

Dean sat against the mattress, ass planted on the ground as he sharpened up his blades. He was twitchy, his fingers kept shaking, and he knew **why** it was. He was **alone** right now, and after he’d met Benny, he’d never really been left alone when taking care of their weapons. He wanted some sort of lookout.

Sam came from the bathroom then, lower body wrapped in a towel and Dean felt like his stomach had dropped into the floorboards below.

The feelings he’d been cornering before spurred forth from him in such a realization that he nearly gasped. _No, God no, don’t let it be like that._

* * *

It had been difficult for the both of them, since Dean magically just reappeared. It was a relief that Sam could feel clear down to his bones, to know that Dean wasn't dead after all; just stuck in purgatory for a whole year. Sam could empathize though. God know's he'd been through a similar situation with Hell. It was noticeable, that Dean didn't handle purgatory too well. Or hell, maybe he did. Maybe being back to his normal life, perhaps that was now unsettling for him after getting used to being so alert all the time.

There wasn't much mention of Amelia after the first time, the look on Dean's face said it all. Sam knew his brother was disappointed in him, for quitting, for essentially dragging an innocent person into this life. It wasn't like that in Sam's eyes though. Sure, he cared for her, but it hadn't quite evolved to love yet. Which in retrospect was a good thing considering Sam up and left his new life just to pick back up with Dean. It was sad, but he knew he always would. Dean would always come first.

Sam tried to be as careful as possible around Dean. It was easy to see that after what he went through, he was having a difficult time adjusting. He was constantly shaking, jumpy and had even backed Sam up against a wall roughly when he came back with coffee one morning. The younger Winchester didn't blame him for it though, how could he? Even when Sam spoke, he tried to keep his voice timid.

Dean had been sharpening his blades in the floor when Sam had went into the bathroom to shower and was still doing so when he came back out. Seeing Dean like this, look so feral and predatory. Sam wasn't sure if he felt bad for Dean or for the creatures that were trapped in purgatory with him; he knew better than anyone just how deadly his brother could be.

The younger Winchester just offered Dean a small grin as he moved to his duffel-bag, his hand fisted firmly on the towel as his free hand pulled out a pair of light blue cotton boxers. Sam dropped the towel and quickly slid them on, much like every other time. He pulled out a dark blue t-shirt and pulled it over his head as well before moving to his bed.

He sat down and pulled his legs up, eying Dean warily, "You've sharpened those every single day since you've been back," Sam shrugged slightly, "Why don't you give it a break?"

Dean’s eyes had widened at his brother’s backside, and he felt that same, odd, unfamiliar _need_ rising up inside of him, “They uh...” He swallowed and looked forward, eyes darkening and he lowered them to the ground, by the tv stand, “No, it’s probably best I keep runnin’ ‘em over. Can’t chance ‘em bein’ dull.” He cleared his throat.

Sam had to know he was being overly cautious, even Dean could admit to that; to himself. But he didn’t know what else to do, he wasn’t running around Purgatory anymore, he wasn’t be-heading demons and vampires.

And he was wanting his brother in ways he... _He had to keep under control_.

Dean stood up, fingers shaking as he tucked his knife away in the back of his pants, “You uh... You wanna just go, or somethin’? There’s gotta be some kinda case ‘round, waitin’ for us.”

Sam looked to the alarm clock that sat on the stand between their beds, it read nine thirty two p.m. He furrowed his brows as he looked back at Dean and spoke, "It's late... and cases are all we've been doing since you got back. I think we both need to rest for a bit."

Between finding Kevin and the endless amount of cases that Dean had been persistent about, Sam was tired. The younger Winchester knew that it had to be some kind of coping mechanism - to stay busy, to stay alert. And, if he had to guess, he'd say that resting and not moving from place to place made Dean feel vulnerable to attack. It killed Sam to not know what to do, how to help his brother.

“I can’t just 'rest', **Sam** ,” Dean said, louder than he’d intended, practically clawing up his left arm with his right. The problem wasn’t just sitting still though, it was Sam **himself**. Dean almost felt like he had to leave his brother behind and go this alone, goddamn, he was tempted to. But he _needed_ Sam, he needed his brother _so bad_ right now.

The older Winchester looked at Sam, a broken, torn look on his face as he fought inside of himself, “I’m havin’ a hard time doin’ _this_.” He didn’t know what to say, or how to explain, he was torn between so many things right now. But Sam wasn’t giving, not even slightly. Sam was even **less** than he’d been before, and Dean was having a hard time dealing with it, but he didn’t know what to do.

Sam sighed and let his head droop briefly before he stood and moved from the bed back to his duffel-bag. He pulled out a pair of jeans and slid them on, followed by a pair of socks. The younger Winchester grabbed his shoes and moved to the edge of the bed, glancing at Dean before he put his boots on. If this is what Dean needed, then it's what Sam would do; he just wanted his brother to be better.

"I'm not a machine, I'm not used to this like you are," Sam looked up at Dean again, his hair falling in his face as he tied his boots, "I'll do this until I can't move, if it's what you need. But, I'm gonna need to rest eventually, Dean."

Dean shook his head, walking to the window and glancing out through the blinds, to the Impala, “I’m not sure, Sam.” He looked back at his brother and swallowed, goddamn, “Maybe I should go alone. Maybe you should stay back.” He couldn’t decide what to do.

“Or not, maybe you should come,” He shook his head again, “But then, I–” Dean didn’t know what he’d be brought around to doing, or saying to Sam. He just... _Wanted Sam_.

Sam finished tying his boots and stood up, moving over next to the window beside Dean. The younger Winchester propped his hip on the wall and crossed his arms, his eyes glued to his brother, "You're not going without me," He said, frowning, "You're not stable enough to be on your own yet, so let's just go."

He reached out slowly, making sure that Dean saw what he was doing as he sat his hand on his brother's shoulder in a reassuring way. It wasn't like Dean to be so indecisive, usually once he had his mind made... it stuck.

Dean blinked fast a few times, fighting back the water in his eyes, “Sam, I just don’t know about this, this is different.” What else could he say? How could he even possibly explain it to his brother? And the hand on his shoulder was so large, so warm, it twisted things inside and he had to breathe in sharp through his nose as he looked at the taller Winchester - his brother, his flesh and blood, but it didn’t really feel like that anymore.

Sam squeezed his brother's tense shoulder, "It isn't _that_ different, Dean. We've done this type of thing before," Sam raised his brows curiously, "What's wrong? Why wouldn't you want me to come?" Dean was confusing him to say the least, nothing he was saying was making any sense. The only thing different was Dean and Sam knew he would figure out how to help him if it was the last thing he did.

“It’s very, **very** different now,” Dean said, his eyes flicking down to Sam’s lips, “An’ I can’t make it stop.” He felt the longing, the pull, and he took a soft, short step towards the other Winchester, “It’s like it’s completely outta my control.” He had to hide this from Sam, but he wasn't sure how he could do it - and be around his brother - without being completely obvious about his own, personal feelings.

The hand on the shoulder obviously wasn't very reassuring, pain and frustration evident enough on his brother's face. Sam moved closer and pulled Dean into a tight hug, "Just calm down, we'll figure it out, okay?" The younger Winchester patted Dean on the back, "You'll be as good as new in no time. Just... stay calm."

It was visible, there was something digging at Dean, something he hadn't mentioned to Sam. Whatever it was, that mixed with the mild PTSD symptoms his brother was having... it wasn't a good combination. He knew there was no way he'd let Dean go anywhere without him, he couldn't.

Dean felt Sam’s arms take him over, envelop him, and he couldn’t help his own arms wrapping around his brother’s lower back, his lips pressing to Sam’s neck as he melted in and felt himself relax. It wasn’t a lot, it wasn’t complete mush, but it was significant enough. The younger Winchester wouldn’t figure it out, he **couldn’t** , Dean would die before he did, but it felt _good_ to be this close. “Goddamn,” He breathed, arms tightening, “Needed this.”

Sam squeezed firmly one last time before pulling away, looking Dean in the eyes as seriously as he could, "If you need a shoulder, you know I'm here for you. Things'll get easier." The hug **was** different almost, more desperate in a way, but Sam couldn't quite put his finger on it. It did, however, help relax the older Winchester a good bit, which was better than nothing.

Dean moved in almost, to hug Sam again, but managed to keep it at bay. Goddamn, it was so much stronger when his brother was this close. But it was worse when Sam pulled away, like it wounded him. Dean turned, glancing around the room hopelessly as his hands shook at his sides, “We should go.” He cleared his throat.

Sam nodded slowly and he watched Dean curiously. The older Winchester was hardly one for what he called 'chick flick moments', but if Sam didn't know any better, he'd say that Dean was about to hug him again. Whatever happened to Dean in Purgatory must've changed him. "Alright, let's get out of here," Sam said as he moved to grab his duffel-bag and then his coat off the back of the chair, "Don't be surprised if I pass out on you in the car."

Dean nodded, grabbing his own things up, which wasn’t much, and he shouldered his bag, fingering around in his pocket for his keys as he walked out of the front door. If he could do anything, he was going to try his hardest to avoid his brother. Bringing Sam along was fine, but he needed to watch his distance because, otherwise, the younger Winchester would find out. Dean couldn’t afford that. At all costs, Sam had to remain clueless.

* * *

They'd just gotten settled down at this quaint little hotel out in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere. A place so dodgy that God couldn't even find it, if he really wanted to; and that was saying something.

Both of them were covered, head to foot, in dried up blood and mud after taking out a small vampire coven about thirty miles north of where they currently were - Dean more so than Sam.

It was almost disturbing to see how quickly Dean moved through the creatures, how vicious and precise he was when he be-headed them. It was fast, thorough, and somehow very violent. Sam killed maybe one or two, both with time-consuming inefficiency and Dean breezed through the rest like he _enjoyed_ it.

Sam was stiff and knew he'd be bruised up by tomorrow. The leader of the coven had gotten the drop on him and flung him like a rag doll before he had a chance to pull the machete on him. It was done and over with though, they were all dead and now, hopefully Dean would let him rest for a while. The older Winchester seemed to be slightly more sated after chopping a few heads off, which unsettled Sam a little if he was being honest with himself.

Sam grimaced as he kicked his boots away, his muscles aching in protest with each lift of a leg. He moved slowly to the little kitchenette and pulled two beers from the fridge, they deserved it. The younger Winchester moved at the pace of a snail back to the other room, exhausted from both the lack of sleep and the blood suckers they just took out. He held the bottle out to Dean without speaking, he wasn't even sure if he was capable at this point, that's just how beaten down he felt.

“Thanks,” Dean breathed as he took it. He could tell, just from watching the way that Sam was walking, that he was roughed up and sore. Dean’s own aches were like a comfort, a reminder of the hunt. He didn’t dare take to relaxing now, not when the thrum of war was shuddering through him. He twisted the cap and took a long pull from it, it was still off after being in Purgatory, but he ignored it.

Slowly, through the hunting and the cases, Dean’s feelings for his brother had become more recognizable, more significant, as they grew, as he struggled to keep his distance. He hoped Sam hadn’t noticed, but he was doing the best he could.

“You can sleep, f’you want,” He said, he was fine to watch out, able and practically glowing with it, and he kept his eyes from Sam; _kept everything of his from Sam_.

The younger Winchester shook his head as he sat down at the small table, stretching his body out comfortably as he put the bottle on it. "You need to sleep too, Dean," Sam ran a hand over his face as he yawned, "Nothing is going to attack us, it's safe here."

He entertained the thought of searching the internet to see what he could find about PTSD, see if he could find something to help his brother. Then before he knew it, the thought alone had him opening the lid to his laptop as he tapped away at the keys.

Dean shook his head and shrugged, “I don’t really wanna sleep, I’m fine.” He watched Sam, the warmth of his brother and the familiarity of having him sitting there at the laptop filling him. He looked away again, swallowing and rubbing his bottom lip, “I don’t need to sleep,” he repeated, as if reaffirming it to himself.

Just as Sam expected - sleep disturbance was one of the symptoms. Anger, anxiety and avoidance. Check, check and check. He looked up at Dean from the screen, hoping more than anything for a quick fix. Sam remembered how bad he got when he couldn't sleep, he didn't want the same outcome for his brother. Pretty much every single site he visited said the same thing, there wasn't going to be a quick fix.

And as far as the relaxation techniques go, Sam wasn't even sure if Dean had gotten off at all since he'd been back. It wasn't like he had reason to think about it. Some of the results showed that most people suffering from PTSD had trouble getting off. It was hard for Sam to believe that Dean of all people would have trouble in that department, being the infamous ladies man he used to be. But, if there was even a possibility that kind of release would ease him enough to rest, then Sam had to say something.

"This is uh, sort of a personal question, but answer me honestly, okay?" Sam asked, trying to keep his eyes on the screen, "Have you gotten off since you came back from Purgatory?"

The older Winchester stilled, stiffened, and turned to look at his brother, “What?” He narrowed his brows, the tightening of his jeans causing him to flush slightly.

The only real time he’d thought of trying to get off had been in the shower, and it was once, and he was too mortified, too out of sorts, too frustrated to really get anywhere with it. But how did Sam know? Surely he’d paid enough attention in their years together, they were around one another enough to have woken up in the middle of the night to something like that, he knew **he** had.

Dean shook his head, “Uh... No, not really, why?”

"Okay, uh," Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, "Have you had difficulty... you know, getting _there_?"

If anything, he was mildly sure he could convince the older Winchester to go out with him for a few hours, find a decent lay to help him get off or something. He just didn't want to see Dean suffer the same way he did - from lack of sleep - he'd do just about anything for his brother; despite his exhaustion and straining muscles.

"It's just, I think you're suffering from a mild case of PTSD is all," Sam said and yawned again, "And short of putting you in a hospital, I don't know what else to do. So if you're able to get off... consider this me encouraging you to go jack off. It should relax you enough so that you can actually get some rest."

“I don’t got **anythin’** , Sam,” Dean said hoarsely, turning away again and staring out through the blinds once more. He’d never really looked into PTSD, and he honestly didn’t know what it was _completely_ , but he didn’t have it. He was fine. “It’s none of your goddamn business when I get off, how I get off, an’ how often I do it, so keep to yourself an’ keep out of my life.”

Having his brother ask those kinds of things really twisted at him, really fucked things up in his head. It was bad enough, trying to work his way around Sam, but to have the younger Winchester practically sitting there, _telling him_ to jack off, or ‘encouraging it’ as he’d said, was really just making things worse. And, exactly what the hell was he suppose to do about it? Just go lay out on the bed and tug himself raw?

"It says anger and avoidance are other symptoms," Sam clenched his jaw as he shut the laptop, trying his best to look over his brother's attitude, "I was just trying to help, sorry."

The younger Winchester stood and sauntered over to his bed, then plopped down on it face first. It wasn't like Sam was _interested_ in Dean getting off, it was just that he thought maybe it'd cool his brother down enough to get some sleep. And what confused him even more was the anger Dean had directed at him, like it was all Sam's fault.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve just been angry an' avoidin' people my whole life, how’re those symptoms of anythin’ but a person’s personality?” Dean didn’t like hurting the younger Winchester, he hated pushing Sam away. He moved to his own bed and sat on it, watching his brother’s back, “But uh... What’s it say about not gettin’ off?” Because, if there was anything he really wanted to do, besides killing things and fucking his brother, that was definitely in the top three.

"Even before Purgatory, Dean, you never went off like this. So don't blame it on your personality," Sam mumbled against the covers, his head turned away from Dean, "And it's just more or less a relaxation technique, not guaranteed to work or anything. Most people suffering from PTSD have difficulty getting themselves off." At least Dean was asking and not yelling, it was progress. Sam moved his arms up to pillow his head, his shirt riding up his back slightly, exposing skin.

Dean swallowed and looked down, “I don’t even remember the **last** time I did...” He considered it, “Before Dick exploded, not once in Purgatory. An’... Even really gettin’ it up isn’t somethin’ that just _happens_.” He felt sort of exposed, admitting that, but he’d already said he **couldn’t** get off, might as well be a bit more open, if Sam could figure out how to fix it. “Only one real thin’ makes it happen, but...”

That definitely piqued Sam's interest and he propped his head up quickly, turned and looked at Dean inquisitively, "Well what is it? Whatever works, you need to use it." It made Sam feel good that Dean was opening up to him, even when they were kids, he was always a little closed off when it came to personal matters.

The older Winchester shook his head, “That’s kinda the problem, the uh... Catch twenty-two, I guess.” He looked down, “I can’t, Sam.” He wasn’t sure how else to explain it, but he knew Sam needed more, so he offered up, “It’s not _normal_ , an’ it’s... Not exactly somethin’ I can just **have**. Even tryin’ to get off to thoughts, it–well, it really messes with me, even thinkin’ about it.”

Sam sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the least he could do when Dean was opening up to him like this was sit up and pay attention. "We've been through and seen some pretty messed up shit, Dean," Sam slid his palms down his dirty jeans as he looked at his brother, "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

“Yeah it **can** ,” Dean amended, his eyes meeting Sam’s as firm and cold as steel, “Trust me when I tell you that it **can**. F’I was you, f’I wasn’t me... F’I knew of someone that felt like this, I–I can’t even imagine. I don’t... I can’t tell you, Sam. I **can’t**.”

"No. You **can** , but you **won't** ," Sam responded and sighed, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, man." The younger Winchester leaned back, his torso still propped up on his elbows as he looked at Dean. Whatever it was, Sam knew he wasn't capable of judging Dean for it. "Do you wanna go out? I can _try_ to get you laid. 'Try' being the operative word," Sam suggested, rolling his shoulders as he let his head hang backwards, "Or you could try sitting on your hand until it goes numb, feels like someone else is doing it that way."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, “I don’t want someone _else_ ,” he stressed the last word, “An’ my hand was bad enough, I’ve tried, it’s the thought that floors me every time.” And he couldn’t **tell** Sam, “It’s a change that... bothers me, an’ it’s not gonna go away, Sam. I don’t think I can be with anyone else, not without bein’ sick, even that thought...”

It felt like Sam had to use all the strength in his body to tilt his head up to meet Dean's eyes, a perplexed look painted on his face, "Someone else?" He asked, thinking to the women his brother had been with that actually meant something to him, "I don't understand. You still holding a flame for Lisa or something?" The only woman aside from their mother and Cassie who Dean ever loved. What'd happened was tragic but he knew his brother did the right thing.

“No, not Lisa, it’s not... **Not** Lisa,” Dean said, sighing and looking down finally, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at his hands as they laced together, “Person I’m talkin’ about... I uh, never been with ‘em. Jesus Christ, even the thought of that, it...” it put a bad taste in his mouth, “It’s not gonna happen, an’ it never will.”

For the life of him, Sam could **not** figure out who Dean was talking about. When it came to women, his brother had always been pretty straight forward, going for what he wanted without hesitation. Maybe that was the problem though, maybe it wasn't a woman and Dean was just afraid that he was going to judge him.

But, out of everyone they knew, there was only one person who was at least semi-constant in their lives. Sam gaped at the realization and stuttered, "I-Is it C-Cas?" I mean, it would support what Dean had said about it not ever happening, considering he said that Cas had _let go_ , and they didn't really know if he was alive or dead.

Dean nearly laughed in pain, because of his brother’s complete cluelessness. Sam couldn’t even fathom how fucked up Dean was, so much that he still went the same gender route and got it **wrong** , “No, it’s not Cas,” Dean said, shaking his head again as he felt his eyes prickle with tears, "Might be easier, f‘it was.”

Sam moved his elbows so that his back was flat against the bed as he stared at the ceiling. He tried using the prerequisites that Dean had given him. Someone that he'd never been with and, according to him, it would never happen, no reason why, except that it just **wouldn't**. It was something that bothered him, which could mean that Dean didn't really think it was right for him to feel the way he feels about said person.

He felt a lump in his throat and his heart rate started to speed up as he considered something else entirely, he swallowed heavily and closed his eyes, "Is it me?"

The older Winchester felt his body numb over at the question, but he didn’t respond, goddamn, he **couldn’t**. He was silent, so silent and still as he fought back his tears, as he breathed shakily and attempted to lie the best he could, “Course it’s not,” he said, his voice cracking on the first word and he felt so guilty, so **wrong** , so completely fucking _filthy_ that, no matter how many showers he took, he’d never be clean again.

Sam had spent practically every single day of his life with Dean, sometimes he thought he knew his brother better than he knew himself. So naturally, Sam could tell Dean was lying without even looking at him, his voice said it all.

"You're lying to me," Sam said aloud and he pressed both of his hands to his face, because this couldn't be happening,"Why are you lying to me?" Just the knowledge alone was too much for Sam to comprehend, it just... **didn't** make sense. Or did it? The life they had, constantly being on the road since childhood, losing everyone they ever loved except for each other. All they had now was each other, but it was just too much.

Sam couldn't decide whether he wanted to puke or hug Dean for having to keep something like that to himself. Something like that would be enough to drive anyone completely insane.

Dean stood up at once, swallowing back the pain that his brother’s words caused, he felt like he was gonna be sick, his entire body was shaking with it.

“I have to leave,” He couldn’t bare it, couldn’t handle the rejection coming at him from all sides.

He moved to his duffel-bag, picking it up as the stings of pain shot through his arms, and it was like a punch in his fucking gut, he couldn’t breathe. He was hurting everywhere, and in ways that he’d never before imagined. If the ground didn’t split open and swallow him whole right now, he might actually die from the pain in his chest, squeezing his heart so tightly and shoving it up into his throat.

Sam shot up from the bed and followed Dean quickly. He wasn't sure how he was going to stop him, he just knew he had to. There was no way he could let Dean go, especially not now. Things were complicated and Sam didn't know what to feel, what to do.

"Dean, just wait," Sam reached out and grabbed his brother's forearm gently, trying to stop him, "Why are you leaving?" The younger Winchester searched Dean's face for some sort of answer, dying to know what his brother was thinking at that exact moment.

Dean tried to back away, tried to close his eyes and breathe, tried to calm down, and then he was dropping his bag, pulling his arm from Sam’s and rushing into the bathroom as his mouth watered. He made it just in time to throw up into the toilet, there wasn’t much to pass through, but it fucking **burned**. He honestly didn’t mind, but the splitting headache it caused was about as horrible as he felt on the inside.

"Shit," Sam pulled at his hair with both hands, willing himself to think of what to do before he followed Dean into the bathroom. The younger Winchester ran some cool water and dampened a rag before holding it out to Dean, patting him lightly on the back with his other hand, "Here, take this and I'll get you some water." The fact that this literally caused Dean to get sick twisted at Sam in odd ways and he didn't like it, mainly because he couldn't pin-point the feeling.

“Thanks?” Dean guessed as he spit out a few times, wiping his mouth before his stomach convulsed and all that came out this time was stomach acid. There were tears on his cheeks, for more than just the one, very obvious reason and, by the time Sam had come back, his brother, goddamn... His fucking _brother_ , Dean was practically in tears, silent sobs wracking his body as he flushed the toilet and fought to curl against it.

Sam had gotten the glass of water so fast that he didn't even really remember doing it. Next thing he knew, he was crouching next to Dean and holding the cup out, frowning as he watched his brother sob, "Here."

He felt guilty and at fault for all of this, even though he hadn't done anything. But, knowing that Dean's own guilt was eating at him like this, reducing the man he'd looked up to his entire life to a sobbing mess next to the toilet; it hurt Sam to watch it.

Dean tried to breathe as he took the water, mostly using it to sort of wash his mouth out, his frame was still shaking out of control and he sat back against the wall on the opposite side of the toilet, raising his chin to stare up at the roof as he struggled to breathe and wipe at his face. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t handle his brother‘s pity anymore than he already was.

“I have to go,” He said, the stings shocking through his fingers like little pains, and he blinked, another tear running down the side of his face in a line underneath his ear, and down his neck.

"Why?" Sam asked again, shaking his head in disbelief, "I just- I need time to process this, Dean. Don't just up and leave because you're afraid. I'm terrified, but I'm still here." The younger Winchester reached out and wiped away his brother's tears with his thumbs, unable to just sit and watch without doing something. It was gnawing at him, being unable to just erase his brother's hurt.

God damn it this was a **lot** to take in though and Sam was starting to feel dizzy with it all, starting to panic slightly because anyone else would've left after finding something like that out, but not Sam. No, he stayed, and was trying to make sure Dean stayed too and that's what scared Sam. What in the Hell did it mean anyway?

“Don’t,” Dean said as he shoved Sam’s hand away, “Please, Sam. Goddammit, don’t–don’t touch me.” He sat back up again as his stomach convulsed, nothing came up though, but his body was still trying. It was trying so hard that he dropped the glass, spilling it over the side of his left leg and he heard the distinct crack of it when it hit the ground and broke; _kind of like he was, now._

"Fuck," Sam mumbled and moved, starting to pick up the pieces of glass, his own tears threatening to spill as he cleaned up the mess.

The younger Winchester felt so torn, didn't know his left from his right at this point, especially with Dean rejecting his comfort. It didn't make sense to him and everything was happening too quickly. He just wanted to be there for Dean, be supportive even though he was the one who needed it.

The tears were blurring Sam's vision mostly as he went to pick a larger piece of glass up, dropping it again after it cut the palm of his hand open, "Ouch. Shit."

The older Winchester turned as he struggled to breathe, tears on his cheeks again and he stood up, pressing his fist to his mouth as he fled the bathroom.

At first, it’d been just to make distance, then, maybe to pretend to go to sleep or something, but his eyes saw the duffel-bag and he reached down, taking it back up. It was so easy to leave now, well... Not really _easy_ , that wasn’t the right word. But it was a window of opportunity right in front of him; he'd be an idiot not to take it.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, watching Dean flee the bathroom and the blood slowly trickling out of his hand and splattering the floor red. The younger Winchester stood, his entire body protesting and a sudden throb in his head making it difficult. But, he turned the cool water on and put his hand under the stream to clean the blood off as he stared at himself in the mirror.

Sam turned the water off and wrapped a dry rag around his hand and exited the bathroom. He froze briefly as he noticed Dean standing there with his duffel-bag, looking like he was still going to leave. Sam tried to get him to stay and there wasn't a whole lot he could do at this point, if Dean was going to leave, then Sam wouldn't stop him.

The taller man sniffled then moved to his own duffel-bag and pulled out his home made first-aid kit. It'd be difficult, but he could sew himself up if he had to, he'd done so before.

Dean watched his brother warily and sighed. He dropped his bag, he’d leave the moment Sam was asleep anyways; there was time. The older Winchester walked over, snatching the first aid kit from his brother and he had to pause, blinking furiously before closing his eyes and breathing. He took his over shirt off, folding it up and laying it down under his brother’s hand, as a pillow, and to catch anymore blood. He took up the curved needle from the plastic kit, the thread, and kept his eyes down completely as he sewed Sam shut.

Sam pulled his hand away finally, when his brother was done, and shook his head at Dean, frowning as his eyes watered again, "You can leave now, I know you're going to anyway."

The younger Winchester moved to the table and downed over half of his warm beer, trying to drown out everything for a little while. Even with the new found information, Sam was willing to stay. Dean though, he was trying to find the quickest escape route now that Sam knew, essentially abandoning him to figure things out on his own.

“What **else** do you want me to do, Sam?” Dean asked, voice louder as he stood and looked at his brother, “You’re so sick of it you can’t even lookit me, I’m **just** as sick. An’ it’s not gonna go away, it’s just gonna get worse. An’ this PTSD bullshit, or whatever the fuck it is, isn’t gonna get better cuz I can't jack off thinkin’ about you, without wantin’ to claw my fuckin’ brains out.”

He turned his head as he breathed and swallowed, closing his eyes, “I dunno if you’ve even really thought about it yet, Sam. Not like I have, not for as _long_ as I have. It’s sick, an’ I can’t stop it.”

He looked at his brother again, the feeling taking over him so much that his hands and feet felt numb, “It's not just sex, if that isn’t fucked up enough. It’s everythin’ else. Wantin’ to see you, to hold you, to be close to you. An’ it’s completely out of my control. I can’t even lookit you an’ see a brother anymore, cuz there’s this in my face. An' you touch me an’ it’s like... It’s like I’m more happy, more... More everythin’, than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”

"I-I don't know, Dean. I'm not disgusted I'm just... _fuck_. You can't just expect me to be able to process all of this so quickly, this is a lot, okay?" Sam had sat his beer back down and turned to look at Dean, hurt visibly apparent on his face, "And I can't say that I **have** thought about it, Dean. I don't want to lie to you, but I don't judge you for it. I just think that it's shitty that you spring this on me and then want to leave, leaving me here to figure it out on my own and I don't know what to feel or what to do."

“Well, neither do **I** , goddammit,” Dean said as he covered his mouth and backed up, ass landing hard on the mattress when his knees hit the side, “Oh dear fucking _God_.” He dropped his head, trying to breathe, trying to think, "I'm in love with you..." It was so much worse now, now that Sam knew. Dean knew it would be. It was like his world was crumbling down around him. He couldn’t think but, honestly, he didn’t **want** to think.

Sam choked, whether it was on his spit or just air, he wasn't sure, but it happened. His mind already reeling with everything else and now Dean's in love with him; or has been? Shit, he didn't know.

This was the part where any sane person would just hightail it out of there and not look back, but Sam stood still and stared at Dean with his mouth hanging open, "You wanna know what scares me about **all** of this? Is the fact that it **doesn't** creep me out, **doesn't** disgust me and it should. I should've left, but I didn't... couldn't. What the hell does that say about me?"

“I dunno,” Dean said as he laid down, pulling the comforter over him, even though he was fully clothed, even though he still had his shoes on, even though he was laying over the entire left side of it, “But I don’t wanna breathe.”


	2. Chapter 2

Over the past three months, Dean had tried his fucking **hardest** to resist his brother, to hide his feelings, to keep them in. At the same time, he tried to quash them, tried again, and again, with women, but it always ended with embarrassment. At this point, it was ridiculous to even **try** to get hard, considering he couldn't even get it up at all, and hadn't, for weeks now. The feeling of being sick with himself just got worse, and he felt more and more guilty.

Sam remained stronger, standing adamantly, or stubbornly rather, by his side, and it only made him feel worse about the entire situation. He was forcing his brother into something that neither of them wanted, this odd, awkward unsettlement set in because Dean kept wanting to put it in his brother, or the other way around, half the time he didn’t really care who was fucking who, or doing anything with his brother. He wanted something, to kiss Sam, to hold him, to touch him, _anything_. And then, the other half of the time, he was trying not to completely kill himself with the guilt of the entire fucking scam.

Every time he looked at Sam and felt that surge of want and need, Dean wanted to die. Every time he sunk into himself more and more, and it became harder to get excited, harder to get **hard** , or even slightly happy at all. _When you fall in love_ , he thought, _when you fall in love, you probably shouldn’t feel so completely miserable, so completely fucking broken. Pain because they weren’t yours was one thing, but pain because your in love?_ And he was pretty sure **that** was it.

Being in Purgatory had messed with him, something nasty had finally fucked up Dean Winchester, and it stuck with him even though he was out of there. But he didn’t know what to **do**. Sam wouldn’t leave, Sam was insistent to make them both miserable case after case.

The moment Dean was in the room, he did the same thing he’d done since that first day when he told Sam how he felt, he curled up on the bed, fully clothed, and closed his eyes, trying his hardest not to cry. It wasn’t even tears out of pain or sadness that Sam didn’t love him back, it was out of frustration now, that he was just stuck in this and he couldn’t get out, that he couldn’t get rid of those emotions. Sleep was the only peace.

The first few weeks were the hardest for Sam, constantly thinking and trying to decipher what it meant - that he didn't want to leave when he found out. That type of information wasn't something that you could just shake off and forget. No, for Sam, it was more like cancer. It was spreading in a weird way and it **kept** growing, eating at him like a disease and making itself comfortable. The younger Winchester first noticed it about a month and a half after finding out, realizing that he'd been watching his brother's bowlegged strut, smiling. It had definitely occurred to him that it wasn't normal behavior, other parts of him knew exactly what was happening.

The second time he'd noticed something was off with himself was when they'd stopped at a diner about a month after that. When he'd snapped out of it, he noticed he'd been watching Dean's mouth as he ate and that his pants had suddenly felt just a little too _small_. It was just little things here and there, but enough for Sam to know exactly what was going on.

* * *

Sam entered their room, watching as Dean went straight to his bed and that's when Sam had just had enough of his brother's moping. After kicking off his boots and slinging his coat over the small couch, he made his way over to Dean's bed and plopped down next to him.

He turned his head to the side, grinning warmly, trying to get Dean to reciprocate, "You wanna go out tonight? It's been a while."

“Not really,” Dean said as he tried to breathe, it was like his ribs were crushing everything inside of him, and he couldn’t handle it, being so close to Sam felt like fire, like lightening throughout him and he turned away, pulling the comforter with him, his filthy boots spreading dirt on the light green of it.

“You can, I’m fine here on my own. Just cuz I wanna have sex with my brother, doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Not really.” And there it was, Dean had that tendency to say things like that, to almost be rude about his feelings to Sam.

He was sure it was a way of trying to get his brother to realize how _fucked up_ it was, and maybe leave. He remembered when he’d explained that he’d wanted to shove Sam against a wall and suck him dry, or bend him over a counter and fuck him so hard that his shoes fell off. Sam always just stared at him in shock, and it always, always ended up just making Dean sick with himself.

Sam felt his dick twitch in interest at his brother's words, rolling his eyes at himself before he responded, "Well, do you wanna just get drunk here then? I'll go get the beer." He wanted to actually spend some time with Dean that didn't involve the older Winchester moping in bed, wanted to bring him out of his funk.

He knew that Dean used harsh words as a defense mechanism sometimes and it didn't bother him. Half the stuff he told Sam in order to scare him away just usually ended up intriguing him, pulling him deeper into this great big pit of fucked up-ness.

“Don’t really wanna drink,” Dean said numbly, though he was sure he was at the point where being drunk would just feel normal, “Go get yourself drunk an’ leave me the fuck alone, Sam,” H _e should’ve left when he’d had the chance, should’ve left Sam to stitch up his hand alone, should’ve allowed his brother to move on... And forget about_ –“–me completely...”

"You know, believe it or not, you don't have to be an ass all the time. Besides, I don't wanna get drunk **without** you, it's kind of the whole point," Sam sat up and patted Dean on the back, probably letting his hand linger a little too long, "And what in the Hell do you mean ' _me completely_ '?" So much for that idea. At this point, Sam should be used to Dean shooting him down. Sure as hell didn't stop him from trying though.

Dean shook his head, not realizing he’d even said it aloud, “Nothin’, forget about it.” His body had heated at Sam’s touch, but he tried to ignore it - as was the past three months, “Me gettin’ drunk? You thin’ that’s gonna end well? I could either sit there cryin’ my eyes out an’ bein’ the sad drunk, or tryin’ to rape you or somethin’, that’s probably not beneath me anymore, considerin’ I already wanna put it in you as is.”

"You know you think that works, being crude about it, but it doesn't," Sam stood up and looked down at Dean, "I'm not going anywhere so you might as well get drunk with me." The younger Winchester kicked the mattress, trying to get Dean's full attention.

Dean rolled over onto his stomach and groaned, “Why can’t you just leave me in my fuckin’ misery?” He knew the question was going to bite him in the ass, but he was so frustrated, and so pissed, and the last thing he wanted to be was **drunk**.

Sam narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he made up his mind. He climbed back onto the bed slowly and pressed his body against Dean's back, his large hand holding Dean's hip down as he growled in his ear, "Because I'm fucking tired of seeing you like this," Sam squeezed his hip a little, "Please, just a few shots?"

The older Winchester swallowed as he felt his cock throb suddenly at the attention, but it practically withered the moment he realized it had happened. He reached down and shoved Sam’s hand away, climbing from the bed and licking his lips, “Fine,” he agreed weakly.

He couldn’t believe that **this** was how Sam was going to play, it was dirty, fucking _filthy_ , to mess with his _already fucked up feelings_. He couldn’t even look at his brother, he was so sick with the thought of the younger Winchester placating to his feelings, that was the last thing he needed.

Sam crossed his arms and narrowed his brows as he responded sarcastically, "Well now, wouldn't want you to do me any favors." The younger Winchester let his arms hang as he moved to the cabinet in the kitchen where they kept the whiskey. Sam grabbed two glasses and the bottle of whiskey and took them to the table, filling each with a double shot.

He held one up for Dean as he downed the other and filled it again, grimacing at the distinct burn. Sam had a reason for wanting to get drunk. There were things he wanted to tell Dean, but he knew that he wouldn't be capable without a little liquid courage.

Dean sighed, walking forward and taking a seat across from Sam. He knocked back the first with ease, could’ve almost swore he was just drinking water, scratched the stubble along his jaw and set the glass down, avoiding his brother’s eyes. He knew that just looking at Sam would make things so much worse.

Sam filled Dean's again about the time he was downing his third double shot, he needed to slow down or he'd probably say too much. This was nice though, just having Dean sit across from him instead of curling up into a ball in bed. Which even in retrospect, didn't sound quite so bad as long as Sam could cuddle up behind him.

"Thanks," He said as he filled his glass with his fourth, already starting to feel the effects as a calm, warm buzz washed over his skin.

Dean didn’t respond, didn’t welcome Sam, he **wasn’t** welcome at all. The older Winchester knocked back his second, feeling his eyes prickle just slightly, whether from the booze or himself, he wasn’t sure, he didn’t really care, either way. All he wanted to do was sleep, or be out there, hunting some nasty... Or fucking his brother.

He swallowed, even if Sam would’ve been up for it, Dean wasn’t sure if **he** could keep it up long enough to stick it in him. The thought made Dean harden slightly but it gave up it’s feeble attempt the moment the sickness rolled in. Truth was, he couldn’t have even raped Sam if he’d _tried_.

"Listen, I uh," Sam downed the fourth shot and slid his glass away, "I think I should probably tell you a few things. I don't expect you to say anything back, but I feel like I need to tell you or I'm gonna explode."

The younger Winchester ran a hand through his hair and blew out a heavy breath, "Sometimes I watch you and I don't even realize I'm doing it, half the time I even catch myself smiling. I don't know what to make of it and I can't help it. I think maybe it has a lot to do with why I didn't want you to leave after I found out, I'm not sure. Either way, I've been _feeling_ things and I'm not telling you to make things even more awkward between us. I'm telling you because I feel that you have the right to know."

Sam shouldn’t have to feel like he had to pretend he had feelings for Dean, just to try and make things better between them. Dean wasn’t sure what his brother was even trying to achieve wit this, but it made him clutch his fists tight until the knuckles were white, and he didn’t even bother downing the third shot, “Fuckin’ Christ, Sam.”

He blinked as he looked at the younger Winchester, “So, what? You had to get fuckin’ buzzed so you could pretend you have... Some kinda somethin’ for me?”

He found himself standing back, knocking his chair onto the floor behind him, “You think I want your fuckin’ pity? You think I want this at all, Sam? _Christ_.” He turned, running his hand over his mouth as he shook his head. What the fuck had he _done_?

"Pretend?" Sam stood up out of reflex and moved so fast he felt lightheaded, but he pressed Dean up against the wall as his nostrils flared with anger, "No, I had to get buzzed to tell you because I didn't have the balls to do it **sober**. I didn't treat you like this when I found out, so don't you fucking dare do this to me." The alcohol was coursing through him, making him want to kiss Dean and punch him at the same time. It was almost humiliating to tell him this and then have him react this way.

Sam's eyes fell to Dean's lips before he moved in, pressing his lips to Dean's so hard it hurt, just to prove his point. The younger Winchester pulled back away from Dean and shook his head before turning to walk to his bed, "You're such a fucking jerk sometimes. I swear to God."

Dean’s brain fucking rolled at the lips suddenly over his, the older Winchester’s body twisting inside so painfully that his eyes snapped open wide and he stared at Sam’s face. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t **happening** , it was a **dream**. It was a very real, very vivid, vary _painful_ dream, but it couldn’t possibly be real.

He practically dropped when Sam let him go, but he didn’t let it stop him. If he was actually able to dream, finally, goddamn, he was going to go further than just some measly fucking half-assed kiss.

“Sam,” He said, reaching out and grabbing his brother’s arm, trying to stop him, “Wait, okay, stop.” He stepped forward, cupping the back of Sam’s neck as he pulled his brother down and pressed their lips together again.

Sam kissed back with so much fervor it surprised himself, knocking his brother against the wall yet again as his lips mapped out Dean's more tenderly this time. This was all he wanted, all he could handle at the moment and he reveled in it; finally knowing what it felt like to shut his brother's smart ass mouth up with his own. The younger Winchester groaned against Dean's lips as he pressed his body flush to the smaller man's. The alcohol had every nerve ending in his body on fire and it felt amazing.

“Sam,” Dean breathed against his brother’s lips, legs struggling to hold him up firm as Sam pressed against him, Dean's hands moved into his brother’s hair, fingers nearly clawing through it’s softness as he breathed out. He felt his cock stir, but shudder out the moment he started thinking about it again. Still, he tried to ignore it, it’d be fine, when it came time to fuck, he’d be fine, he _would_.

"Just," Sam kissed him again, drawing it out, "Shut the fuck up," He slid his tongue across his brother's bottom lip slowly, "And let me kiss you." The younger Winchester rolled his hips against Dean's once before he calmed himself down.

Sam cupped Dean's face and ended the kiss, his glassy eyes wandering Dean's face, "I'm not pretending, but this is all I can handle right now."

Dean blinked as their actions slowed, and he was honestly kind of confused. He stared up at Sam, lips swollen from kissing, eyes watery, and then it really struck him. _This wasn’t a dream_. He had to catch himself, nearly dropping to the floor as his knees tried to give out and his eyes widened, “Sam, you...” He _didn’t_... Didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to **think**.

Sam shook his head minutely, "Shh," He grabbed Dean's hand and started pulling him towards the bed, "You're gonna get some rest tonight, no arguments."

The younger Winchester climbed onto his bed and pulled Dean down next to him, settling in comfortably as he draped his arm over Dean's waist. They were both fully clothed, but this was good. It was definitely _something_.

“Sammy,” Dean said, eyes meeting his brothers as he curled against Sam and he felt the tears just start pouring, completely out of his control. He reached his hand up, shaking violently as he touched his brother's shirt, fingers running up the chest of it as he stared after them. It felt impossible, inconceivable, but he’d been alone in this for three months too long. Still, though, there was this pulling concern, that Sam was making it up, but he’d take whatever the younger Winchester was willing to offer, even if it wasn’t a hundred percent legit.

"It's real," Sam responded, answering his brother's unasked question as he pulled him closer and pressed a firm kiss to his forehead.

It had definitely escalated more than he'd expected, without doubt. But, it felt so nice, to finally just give into something without questioning it a million times before hand. Having Dean so close, the familiar scent and his warm hands on his chest. It was almost difficult for Sam to comprehend why he didn't tell his brother sooner.

The younger Winchester dipped his fingers up underneath the hem of Dean's shirt to feel his skin as he let his eyes slide shut, welcoming slumber with his arms wide open.

Dean pressed closed to Sam, staring at him, watching him sleep, feeling the arms around him, the warm, large hand touching his skin. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, just staring up at Sam and trying to breathe, trying to take it all in, reading through every ripple of skin, every hair on his brother’s brows and lashes, the dimples and moles and freckles, every single pore. Sam was beautiful, so perfectly carved into life.

Dean pushed his lips to his brother’s once more, probably two or more hours into his brother’s rest, at least. He felt the flutter along the soles of his feet, twisting his insides, numbing his veins, running up his arms and he finally forced himself to sleep as well.

* * *

Sam woke up first, his arms still around Dean, protectively almost, and their legs were intertwined. The younger Winchester just stared at his brother's face for the longest time. It was nice to see a sense of peace displayed, the constant worry erased from his brows. Even if it was only temporary, Sam was pretty sure they'd found something to help Dean rest and it was something he himself could get behind one hundred and ten percent.

He didn't, however, just want Dean to automatically assume that they were just going to hop right into things. A lot about their situation still made Sam's stomach twist and clench. And he was having a difficult time figuring out if it was a good or bad sensation.

Dean’s eyes flicked open some time shortly after Sam, and he froze, carefully feeling out their bodies with his mind, taking in stock the large arms around him, the body laced with his, the strong heartbeat against his own. He was almost overwhelmed at once, just by the thought of what was happening with them, and his eyes met Sam’s. Dean felt so guilty, so **wrong** like this, even though it was what he wanted, maybe **because** it was what he wanted.

Now that Dean was awake, Sam wasn't really sure what to do. Did he continue to lay there, holding him? Or did he get up and go about his day, avoiding some sort of inevitable 'talk'? It was bad enough that Sam could sense some sort of regret or guilt just by looking Dean in the eyes, those beautiful green orbs could tell a story all on their own.

"I think that's the most sleep you've gotten since you've been back," The younger Winchester finally said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Right,” Dean agreed, swallowing. He felt like he was going to be sick, or explode, or piss himself. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe, trying to calm down. Last night had _happened_ , Sam had meant what he’d said, and now Sam was sleeping with him in his bed. He didn’t see much improvement in the way of becoming erect, but it was still very... Very nice. Dean could only hope that it was a matter of time until he could get hard again.

It was easy to see the sense of panic that had started to settle on the older Winchester's shoulders. Sam was almost disappointed in himself, for not being able to snap Dean out of it. The older Winchester was already starting to act anxious and stressed.

Sam laid the flat of his palm against the scruff on Dean's cheek, hesitating for a moment as he looked him over and then he leaned in and pressed a single chaste kiss to his lips; morning breath be damned.

"Don't freak out on me now," Sam mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

Dean’s body surged into a second, deeper kiss without his complete go-ahead, and he opened his mouth just, just slightly, just enough. His breathing deepened as he opened his eyes, staring into his brother’s face. It was... It was out of his control, it was the way he felt, he couldn’t help himself. All he wanted was to be _close_ , to be received, to be **welcomed** by his brother, for once; to be **needed** by Sam.

The already familiar lines of his brother's lips against his were a welcome sensation, warm and pliant. Sam moved in one swift motion, hovering himself over Dean before pressing his body against the smaller man's. The younger Winchester was hard already, of course that was to be expected because he'd just woken up. Dean's body felt almost perfect beneath his, strong and sturdy, not likely to break if he wanted to _use_ it without holding back.

Sam let himself get lost in the kiss for a moment, breathing heavily through his nose as he tilted his head, teasing Dean's lips with the tip of his tongue.

The older Winchester’s eyes widened and he arched against Sam, body desperate for him. Goddamn, he could feel the line of his brother’s cock pressing into his left thigh. Sam was _hard_ , and it wasn’t wavering, he was _enjoying_ this. It was ironic, almost, the change of events.

Dean could feel his own cock’s halfhearted attempt before it faltered, a disappointment he was too use to. It didn’t mean anything, he still wanted Sam, still hungered for his brother more than anything. And the attention, the blanket effect of his brother over him was very much appreciated. He groaned into Sam’s mouth, legs parting slightly, hands moving to touch the larger man’s sides tentatively.

Sam willed himself to calm down as he pulled his lips from Dean's, staring down at him for a few minutes before he rolled back off next to him. His eyes were glued to the ceiling as he mentally chastised himself. Not wanting Dean to think that things were going to change so rapidly, yet it was like Sam couldn't stay away from him. Their situation was delicate and it needed to breathe a little. It was difficult though, because anytime Dean tried to deepen a kiss, Sam felt the urge to jump his bones.

"Sorry," Sam said and he pushed the palm of his hand against the front of his jeans to relieve a little pressure.

Dean slammed his eyes shut, feeling the slab of mortification and embarrassment running over him, he covered his mouth as he sat up and pushed off the side of the bed, fingers numbing with pains, “No, I... I’m sorry.”

He felt so hollow, so fractured, and he really wasn’t sure what Sam wanted from him, but some times it felt so right, so amazing. And then there were times like this. “I’m gonna shower,” He felt filthy, like there were ants on his body or something.

Sam propped himself up on his elbows, watching Dean curiously,"Okay," He said, looking around a little clueless, "Did I do something wrong?" Whatever was going on, Sam was sure that they were on two different wave lengths and that they'd need to talk about it, and soon.

“I’m not gonna sit here an’ talk about this like some goddamn girl, Sam,” Dean said, taking a deep breath through his nose and walking into the bathroom. The less he said, the better. Maybe, soon enough, Sam would get over this sorry attempt to make things work between them.

The second he was undressed and under the spray of the shower, his stomach started convulsing. He managed to keep it back, to keep himself calm, to not gag until he got sick, but it wasn’t an **easy** thing to do.

* * *

Dean had always been sort of a dick, but it usually worked for him and most of the time his sense of humor would cancel it out all together. But, since Purgatory, it was like Sam had to tread lightly around him and it was gradually becoming more difficult.

It was confusing for Sam, more than anything. If he couldn't get Dean to talk to him, then what exactly was the whole point? Sam shifted, the hardness ever present in his jeans making his whole lower region ache with need. And since Dean was in the shower, he'd have enough time to pull one off as long as he was quick about it.

The younger Winchester unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down just enough for him to get a firm grasp on himself, the immediate relief as he started to tug making him groan quietly.

* * *

Dean dropped his forehead against the shower tiles, reaching down with shaking, cold fingers. He could still feel Sam over him, the line of his cock pressed into Dean’s hip; what he wouldn’t give to be able to stay hard for more than ten seconds.

He touched himself, fingers wrapping around the base of it and tugging mercilessly, but to no avail, it was there and then it was gone, only twice before it gave up all together and Dean felt the worthlessness take over, weak, halfhearted sobs wracking his body as he washed slowly and came out of the bathroom nearly an hour later; long after the cold water had settled in. He didn't even bother covering up, he didn't have anything to show for it anyways.

By the time Dean had came out of the bathroom, Sam had already gotten off and was sprawled out on the tiny sofa just waiting. Waiting for what though was a question in itself.

A blind man could tell that Dean was having issues and Sam was clueless as to what **else** there could possibly be going on. If he tried talking about it, Dean just shut him out, so that wasn't much of an option. The younger Winchester diverted his eyes, trying to give Dean some sort of privacy, since he didn't even take it upon himself to wrap a towel around himself.

Sam was just clueless and he felt defeated. If he wanted to talk to Dean, it was like he had to pry a conversation out of him.

The older Winchester moved to his duffel-bag, keeping his eyes away from his brother. He still couldn’t help but conclude that he should’ve left that first night, should’ve left Sam with his cut open hand and never looked back. At least then, his brother wouldn’t be trying to force them into some sick, twisted thing where one of them couldn’t even think of them without gagging, even though he’d fallen in love with his brother in the first place and the other was trying to be with him because he thought it ‘might help’.

Dean pulled the black boxer-briefs over his thighs, tucking himself away and shuffling around for a clean pair of jeans.

"Hey," Sam said, looking over the back of the sofa at Dean, "You know, I thought that this is what you wanted to begin with and uh, I'm just a little confused as to why you keep shutting me out, why you keep snapping at me like it's my fault. If I did something, just tell me. I know I've probably been over stepping my boundaries and I'm sorry."

The younger Winchester was usually always the first to apologize, even before all of this started. There had always been something so deep seeded inside of him, driving him to make things better, resolve issues.

“You think I wanted you to force yourself into this?” Dean turned and looked back at Sam, “You... It was so bad that you had to actually be under the effects of alcohol just to **tell** me that you were interested in me? An’ you’re not, I know you’re not, that’s... It doesn’t matter.”

Sam had gotten hard before, but maybe that was just morning effects, Dean was use to false senses of hope, “You don’t have to fuckin’ pretend, an’ force yourself into it, that’s not what I want. Hell, a good percent of the time I don’t know what **I** want. An’ I have a hard enough time dealin’ with my feelin’s for you without you comin ‘roun’ an’ fuckin’ thin’s up, an’ messin’ with me. I don’t need that. I already have a... A hard time,” Dean swallowed and looked away, stepping into his jeans.

“I already have a hard time with everythin’ else.”

Sam knew he had to stay calm, no matter what, because Dean was fired up enough for the both of them and, if Sam started, it just wouldn't end pretty.

The younger Winchester stood from the couch and moved closer to his brother, but not too close as he cleared his throat, "I told you last night that I'm **not** pretending and I also told you why I got buzzed. I was just afraid and I didn't have the balls to do it sober, I just needed to get it out there. And I'm not forcing myself to do anything, it just kind of _happened_."

Sam shifted, standing with his head tilted towards Dean and his right hand on his hip, "I don't remember telling you that you were just fucking with me when I found out," He ran his left hand over his face as he chuckled sarcastically, "It's real nice to know that what I feel is just one big joke to you."

“That’s **exactly** what it feels like, yeah,” Dean agreed, ignoring everything else his brother had said, “The entire thin’ just feels like some sick fuckin’ joke. An’ you’ve done this before. It’s not **possible** , Sam, an’ I’m not gonna fall for somethin’ as stupid as this. So would you stop fuckin’ lyin’ about how you feel? It’ll be much easier on me if you quit thinkin’ you gotta do these thin’s for me, I don’t **need** it.” _But goddamn_ , how badly he actually wanted it to be true.

"I've done **what** before?" Sam asked, stepping more into Dean's personal space, "And I'm not doing a god damned thing for **you** , believe it or not, **I** want this and I have no reason to lie to you."

The younger Winchester furrowed his brows and moved away, shaking his head at Dean, "You know what? I stand by my statement from last night. You really are a fucking jerk, not everything is about you." Which was a lie. When it came to Sam, **everything** in his life was essentially about Dean. It just took him too long to realize it.

Dean blinked and stood back, nodding as his eyes searched anywhere but his brother’s face.

“That’s right, it’s not,” He said, eyes darkening, “I keep forgettin’, sometimes, that you didn’t even bother lookin’ for me. Goddamn,” Dean looked at his brother, “I must look fuckin’ ridiculous to you now.”

He turned, snatching his shirt from his bag and pulling it on, moving to the bathroom and taking up the clothes from in there. As he stuffed them back in his duffel-bag, he was shaking his head, unable to keep the words inside, “Fuckin’ pity party of the goddamn century. An’ you don’t even care, you care less than when you actually **cared** about me, as your brother.”

"I can't do this," Sam said quietly, shaking his head as tears filled his eyes, looking at the floor like it held the answers, "You're sabotaging this and it hasn't even had a chance to begin. Throwing shit in my face and accusing me of not caring. Man, Purgatory must've fucked you up something fierce."

The younger Winchester moved to his own duffel-bag and he slung it over his shoulder before slipping his feet into his boots. It stung to have Dean push him away like this and he tried to convince himself that his brother just wasn't ready. He knew they needed space, they both needed time to think.

"I'll keep my cell phone on. Call me when you actually want me. I'm really not even sure that you did in the first place," Sam grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The older Winchester was at Sam’s side in a second, barely within the blink of an eye, grabbing his arm tight in his grip and shoving his brother against the wall by the door, “You think I didn’t want you? That I **don’t** want you? F’I didn’t wanna fuck you,” He moved closer, grabbing Sam’s jaw in his fist and pressing his mouth to the larger man’s roughly, kissing him so hard that he almost bit into his brother’s lip, “F’I didn’t wanna fuck you so hard you couldn't stand straight, so hard you couldn’t sit for a goddamn week, then I wouldn’t be half as miserable as I am right **now**."

"You think it’s easy pushin’ you away? You think it’s easy wantin’ you, an’ knowin’ I can’t have you? You don’t have a fuckin’ clue, Sam. You don’t know anythin’.” His body pressed flush to his brother, “Feelin’ you hard against me this mornin’, an’ not bein’ able to give somethin’ like that in return, you thin' that’s easy?”

Sam dropped his bag as he locked eyes with Dean, "Wha-why? Why can't you have me? I want you too, Dean. I-I don't get it." He had about a million different emotions coursing through him at the moment - anger, lust, hurt and confusion to name a few.

“You don’t want me, Sam,” Dean shook his head, “Not really. I don’t blame you, I mean, I understand. I guess I can kinda relate, everythin’ about me is a mess, ru–an’ it’s not like you’d lower your standards, or fall in love back, because who the Hell falls in love with their brother? Just me, I think. Somethin’ got in there an’ messed shit up.”

"So what then?" Sam asked, a tear falling down his cheek, "You get the final say so and what I want doesn't matter? I can't just turn this shit off, Dean, not **now**. And how do you know that I won't _fall in love_ with you?"

Sam leaned forward, his lips ghosting Dean's, "You can't predict what I'm gonna feel." If anything, Sam already loved him a little bit.

Dean closed his eyes at the soft, sweet touch of his brother’s mouth and his cock hardened between the two of them, just slightly, just enough, and his eyes opened again. That was probably what had made Sam back off before, so Dean did the honor this time, it was better if he did it, the last thing he wanted was Sam pulling away again, “Sorry, I can’t help it.” He turned his back to his brother, trying to blink out tears of frustration.

Sam moved behind him and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, his mouth hovering next to Dean's ear as he held him close, "Listen, I want you, don't apologize. I just-I need you to level with me here, Dean. I don't want to argue with you, I don't like it. And I don't like that you're pushing me away just because you think I'm faking my feelings for you. I'm not, I swear on Mom's grave I'm not." The younger Winchester kissed the side of Dean's neck softly, letting his lips linger on the warm skin.

“Sam,” Dean breathed, head dropping back on his brother’s shoulder, the warm arms around him were comforting, and he’d do anything to keep them there. He didn’t even realize his own hand touching Sam’s forearms as he breathed, what he **did** realize, was the slight hardening of his cock again, that stayed half stiff and didn’t wither nearly as fast as they normally did.

Sam stood firmly in place, his arms wound tightly around Dean as he started placing more kisses along his neck, "So could you please stop being a jerk to me? I'd really like to make out with you," The younger Winchester murmured almost lazily against his brother's skin, nosing just beneath his ear.

Dean breathed out a shaky tremor as he closed his eyes, leaning back into his brother as he gasped, “Dammit, Sammy.” The nickname slipped out from habit, but he didn’t bother worrying about it as his cock hardened just slightly more.

He could feel the strength of the man behind him, the power that always exuded from Sam and his heart was racing just thinking about it. If he was fucking normal, he’d be so hard, his cock would be fucking purple. But, as it stood, even still he wasn’t **completely** hard, _not at all._

Sam hooked his finger into one of Dean's front belt loops and pulled, turning him around so that Sam could see his face. Without hesitation he put his arms right back around him and dipped his head to Dean's to press his lips to the older Winchester's. Little moments like this were what Sam wanted to savor, just being close to Dean without being shoved away.

"You're gonna have to tell me what's too much," Sam slid his hands to the curve of Dean's ass and squeezed, pulling him against his erection as he moaned quietly, almost a whisper. His adrenaline was pumping and working as an aphrodisiac, making him want Dean more than he already did.

“Sonovabitch,” Dean breathed against Sam’s mouth, hips shifting over his brother’s, “M’not really sure if anythin’ is _too much_ at this point, been wantin’ you so fuckin’ long.” He was still sort of nervous though, he knew Sam had a general idea that he was _what little hard_ he could get, and he didn’t want the man to back away again.

“I just wanchyou,” He was slurring the words together almost more than usual now, “I don’t care how, just want.” He touched Sam’s chest carefully, hands shaking, mind uneasy, and if it weren’t for his brother’s arms around him, his knees might actually give out.

The younger Winchester walked Dean to the bed and pushed him backwards before settling himself between his brother's thighs. Sam's right hand firmly settled on Dean's left thigh as he rolled his hips against him, smearing his lips across his brother's neck, "I touched myself while you were in the shower," He rolled his hips again and continued, his voice almost hoarse with want, "Got off pretty quick just thinking about you."

“Fuckin’ liar,” Dean breathed, and he was smirking. He wasn’t serious when he said it, but goddamn, that thought was–“fuckin’ hot,” He said, arching his body into Sam’s. He hardened slightly more at his brother’s words, even though they sort of reminded him of his own experience. And just like that, it was gone, again.

“Shit,” Dean said, fisting his brother’s shoulder as he ignored it, his fucking cock was out of his own control; completely.

"M'not lying," Sam nipped at Dean's neck and noticed his brother was losing his erection. The younger Winchester continued to rub himself against Dean, trying to stimulate the man beneath him as he spoke, "Don't think about anything else, okay? Just think about me and clear your mind of everything else, think about all the things you wanna do to me. All the things I'm gonna let you do and return in kind."

“M’tryin’,” Dean said, brows notching together, “I just, are you sure about this?” He looked at his brother. It was a stupid question, but he needed to see it, needed to know. “Cuz if you’re gonna do this with me, we... We can’t just go back to bein’ anythin’ _less_ , I don’t think I can handle anythin’ _less than this_ , Sam. It’s... it’s all or nothin’ an’ you gotta know that. You gotta really mean it.”

"I'm gonna be honest with you," Sam pulled his lips back away from Dean's neck to look at him, thumbing the crease between his brother's brows, "I don't have the slightest clue of what to do, I've never been with another man," The corner of his mouth picked up into a lop-sided grin, "But I want **you** , almost positive I've wanted you for the last two and a half months."

Dean reached up, fisting the back of Sam’s neck and pulling him down so that their noses were touching, “Shocking, I know, but I never been with a guy before either. I mean, what I **do** know is just... Stored knowledge. An’ maybe a few choice guesses.” He swallowed, eyes widening as he started thinking about it; how it might just be possible, he might actually have Sam. _Goddamn_ , he could be with his brother, _really be with him_ , and he was completely done with the dilemma of their relationship beforehand, as if everything else in his life wasn’t done wrong, might as well give into this one too, considering it was what he wanted to do.

"How about," Sam kissed Dean playfully and leaned back to pull his own shirt off, then he began undoing Dean's jean's buttons, "We figure it out together, yeah?" The younger Winchester could feel his heart beating away wildly against his rib cage as he slid the older Winchester's zipper down.

Sam's eyes flicked up to Dean's and he tried to keep his expression calm, because internally he was freaking out. This was actually going to happen and Dean wasn't fighting it.

Dean nodded as he blinked, sitting up slightly on his elbows to look down better, “Only f’you wanna, I mean, I’m willin’ to wait, f’you’re not ready.” He swallowed, he was _prepared_ to wait, he didn’t want to rush Sam, he wasn’t really _willing_ to wait, but he would if Sam wasn’t ready. This was sort of fast, or not, or was it? He wasn’t sure. How fast do brothers normally go after being co-dependent for thirty plus years and lots of trauma, as well as Purgatory and Hell? There probably wasn’t a book about it.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready," Sam admitted, shrugging as he undid his own pants buttons, "I just know I want it and, short of just feeling it out with you, I don't know what else to do. Google it?" The younger Winchester chuckled and leaned forward, running his hands up underneath Dean's shirt, the pads of his fingers tracing lightly into the soft skin.

“M’ fine with slow, that’s okay,” Dean said, but now he had that twist inside of him, that back away fear; _this is going to get him hurt_. He breathed, trying to think about the hands on him instead, how much he’s wanted to feel Sam like this. “No Google, just us, yeah?” He said, but it came out as a question, “Just us?”

"Just us," Sam repeated as his fingertips brushed Dean's left nipple, "It's all I want." The younger Winchester moved back off the bed and slid his jeans and boxers off, his cock slapping his stomach from his haste of removing the clothing. Sam smirked and leaned forward as he tugged at his brother's jeans, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before and vice versa. Just never exactly in this light.

Dean backed up on the bed at the tug of his pants, sitting up to take off his shirt and push it off the side of the mattress. Holy fucking Hell. It was like a dream, just this entire situation in general, Sam naked, pulling off his clothes.

Dean’s cock gave a half-hearted throb and the older Winchester spread his legs a bit and watched Sam, eyes darkening, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam stood almost awkwardly as his eyes raked over his brother's body slowly, until his eyes eventually met Dean's again. The younger Winchester had to squeeze the base of his dick to calm himself down, because... God _damn_ seeing Dean like that just did things to him, " _Fuck_." Sam moved back in, settling himself back between Dean's thighs, nice and snug, the- "-perfect fit."

“Fuck,” The word came out more as a shiver and Dean felt his cock harden a bit. _Jesus fucking Christ_ , this was something he’d... He’d never even tried to dream of. And Sam’s comment, _goddamn_ , made him harder, “Sam, I... _Yeah_.” It was a weak, flustered, nervous agreement, and he almost lost the little bit of an erection he had, but the feel of the warm skin against him made it stay.

Sam moved his hips slightly and gasped as he felt the drag of his cock next to Dean's, his lips parted and his eyes closed. It was overwhelming, the sensation completely unreal. It wasn't anything like he'd imagined it to be, and they hadn't even started yet. "I don't even-" Sam started and swallowed as he opened his eyes, he leaned down and pressed his nose to Dean's, his long hair shadowing their faces, "I don't know what to do. I mean, I don't know what you like. Or if you're even into foreplay."

Dean couldn’t help smiling at the comment, reaching up and cupping Sam’s cheeks as he stared into his brother’s eyes, “Guess this is... The only real side of one another we’ve never really seen.” It felt right though, honestly, like completing the set; knowing his brother in every single way, this was the last one, and he wanted to know it like the back of his hand. He decided to open up the best he could, share, with Sam something he’d never said aloud, or even really took much time to think of, “Mostly haven’t really been with anyone that... Wanted to take time. I like it, always wanted more, but women, well... They get impatient with me. So, I never really done much of it, always been real fast.”

"Tell me," Sam insisted, almost breathless from the thought of where this was heading, "I wanna know what you like and what feels good for you." The younger Winchester let his hand wander down Dean's side, trying to memorize what each inch of his freckled flesh felt like.

“F-for me?” Dean was almost stunted by the question, but he shrugged as his cheeks turned red, “Uh, my nipples,” He smirked. He figured he’d made enough comments concerning those in the past, wouldn’t take much for Sam to put that one together, “I don’t know many, haven’t really had time to, well... You know. But here too,” he took Sam’s hand and pressed the larger finger to the dip inside of his left hip, just where the skin got squishy and soft, “That’s really all I know of.”

Sam made sure he kept his eyes on Dean's as he delved down and traced the pink of his nipple with his tongue, the action itself making him harder. The more knowledge he had about Dean, not only about his personality, but things that got him going as well, just made Sam want him that much more. His needs were simple and Sam knew, without a doubt in his mind, they were things he'd be more than happy to cater to.

The younger Winchester smoothed his thumb over the skin where Dean had directed his hand to, flicking the hardened nipple with the tip of his tongue as he grinned, "I can work with that."

“Sammy,” Dean dropped his head back and had to breathe for a moment.

He seldom had gotten attention to the two things he knew of, and it’d been so long, almost felt like an eternity in Purgatory. He had to open his eyes though, had to sit back up enough to watch Sam, watch the wet muscle roll over the most sensitive part on his body - that he knew of. He’d always had very sensitive nipples, had often joked about it, and the downside was, that was a feature of men that women... Normally forgot existed, right after their balls. But Sam wasn’t ignoring it, Sam had wanted to know, Sam was complying.

“Your uh...” His cheeks heated even more, “You’re teeth, use your teeth.”

"Like this?" Sam asked, his voice low and gravelly as he brought the tiny pink point between his teeth, nibbling softly at it as he stared at Dean with hooded eyes. The younger Winchester grinded against him, unable to hold his hips still any longer. It was strange, but taking the time to make Dean feel good had Sam throbbing and leaking pre-come like he never had before.

Dean licked his lips, pulling the bottom one in, biting it as he nodded and groaned, a hand moving to the back of Sam’s neck and tangling in his hair, “Dammit, Sammy, yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.” He was having a hard time breathing, and Sam was grinding into him, he reached down and ran a light, careful stroke over his brother’s cock, “What... What about you?” He swallowed, "What d'you like?"

Sam let the hardened nub go as he moved to the other one, starting on it the same as he had the other, "Mmm, you, for one." He moved back up to his brother's mouth and pressed his lips to Dean heatedly, continuously rolling his hips, "I don't know, i'm pretty easy to please. I uh, I like it when you put your hands in my hair, and if you laugh I'll kick your ass right now, but I like it when you call me 'Sammy'."

The older Winchester chuckled, “Not laughin’ cuz you like it. Well, I guess I am, but not cuz whachyou thin’. I’m uh...” He kissed Sam and sat up, “Glad,” Dean guessed, taking his brother’s face in his hands and kissing him suggestively before pushing him back, laying him out with his head at the foot of the bed and Dean on top of him now.

“You’re gonna give me nothin’ physical? You were in a long-term relationship, you dunno nothin’ ‘bout what feels good to you?”

Sam set his palms on Dean's hips, grinning as he mused aloud, "I guess I like it when people are rough with me, biting... scratching, that sorta thing," Sam felt his face flush, it felt odd to say it out loud, "I don't know. I'm not sure how much I even really know about myself anymore, considering."

Dean nodded as he thought over what his brother said, he had a bit of nail, it wasn’t much, but it was longer than he use to cut them, before Purgatory. He could do rough, he had no problem with that, and biting. His cock filled, becoming nearly rock solid at the thought, “Goddamn.”

He nosed the side of Sam’s jaw as he dragged his right hand, claws out, down the expanse of his brother’s torso, “How ‘bout we find some other thin’s too? M'sure there's some choice spots on your body.” They had time for sex but, while they were waiting, they didn’t have to halt everything else.

Sam rocked his hips upwards and bit his bottom lip as he fought back a moan. All the exploring and getting to know one another's body wasn't at all what he'd expected. It was nice though, to have Dean want to know things about him as well.

The younger Winchester tightened his grip on Dean's hips, "M'not sure we'll find anything, but I'm not gonna stop you from trying."

“We’ll see about that,” Dean said, moving down to his brother’s chest and dragging his teeth along the line of Sam’s right peck, biting at the skin underneath, just along his rib cage. As his mouth explored, so did his hands, the left wrapping under the larger man’s meaty thigh and the right digging lines of reddened flesh down Sam’s stomach.

"Damn," Sam hissed as he arched his back to push himself into Dean's touch, the slight sting of the blunt nails making him throb in ways that were becoming difficult to ignore. The younger Winchester watched in awe, his lips parted as he tried to control his breathing to the best of his ability.

Dean glanced up, feeling his stiff cock jolt at the expression on his brother’s face; how he’d longed for this, how he’d wanted this, and hungered for it day and night since he’d gotten back. He moved lower, teeth biting and nipping under the last rib on Sam’s right side, his hands dropped to his brother’s thighs, clawing up them as he teased Sam’s cock, rolling his body against it.

"There," Sam groaned and bucked his hips slightly, bringing his hands up to fist his own hair to keep himself in control, "My thighs, feels good." The younger Winchester almost felt like a teenager, embarrassed at how rock hard he was - and all they were doing was exploring one another. Well, aside from Dean teasing him mercilessly, but if he was being honest with himself, even that turned him on beyond belief.

“Mmm, goddamn, Sammy,” Dean watched his brother, salivating at the man sprawled out for him, all ready for the taking. He just needed his mouth all over Sam, every where he could fit it.

He moved again, nipping and sucking Sam’s hip, one hand reaching up to drag the nails over his brother’s left nipple. He continued with his other hand though, still clawing along where Sam had mentioned before. Dean had always been good at multitasking with lovers, but normally sex was one of the things he was doing. It was nice though, to stay like this with Sam, to learn him; he knew everything else, this was only fitting.

Sam dropped his right hand down to the dark blonde bristles of his brother's hair, moaning and muttering under his breath as he lifted his hips eagerly, desperate to feel Dean's mouth on his heated skin, "Fuck."

It was almost unreal, the sensations that Dean was eliciting from his body. Much like Dean, Sam hardly ever had anyone take their time to scout his body, to learn what worked for him. So knowing and **seeing** Dean do exactly that, and knowing that he was doing it because he wanted to know - and wanted to please - Sam, it was just- "-unbelievable."

Dean glanced up again, “Hmm?” He asked, his mouth moving to the base of Sam’s cock, his hands changing direction together, right coming down over Sam’s ribs, left running up his brother’s waist as Dean breathed him in, the musky scent of arousal, but something that Dean sort of knew, knew in the middle of the night, a smell he caught sometimes, hugging Sam, it was almost familiar, but stronger now; concentrated. His entire body lit up with the scent and he drew his wet tongue, dripping with saliva from his watering mouth, along the prominent vein on Sam’s gut, up to his hip, and back down to his cock.

"Dean," Sam breathed and clenched his eyes shut firmly, his toes practically curling from the overwhelming pleasure of just having Dean's tongue on him. If it was this intense already, he could hardly imagine what it'd be like when they **actually** had sex.

There’d been sleepless nights of Dean’s where all he thought of was doing this to Sam, these damn veins were the most teasing things on his brother’s body. He’d felt guilty about it before, longing to touch them, to taste them. He hadn’t once even hoped that he’d actually be in this position, and having his brother as a writhing mess underneath him was pushing Dean to new heights.

The older Winchester spread Sam’s thighs, mouth moving underneath his cock, pressing a soft, short kiss to the skin at it’s base as his hands dragged down, nails biting slightly into the soft flesh of Sam’s inner thighs.

Dean rolled his wet tongue over his brother’s left ball before taking it in his mouth, careful, gentle sucks as he breathed through his nose. He’d never once been with a guy, never even really considered it before Sam had just sort of stumbled onto him, complete accident, but since that first night, he’d considered everything he wanted to do to his brother, considered how to go about doing it, where he’d taste, where he’d touch first, this was one of those he’d questioned, and also wanted more than anything; mouthing his brother’s most private, sensitive parts.

Sam was ashamed to admit it and he probably never would, audibly anyways, but no woman he'd ever been with had ever done anything to him like Dean was currently doing. It was mind numbing and he had to clutch the sheets as tightly as he could in order to keep himself still. It was insane to think that Dean had never done this before, especially with how skilled his mouth felt on Sam's skin. Every inch of him was tingling delightfully, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come against his navel.

He wanted Dean, wanted to fuck him or be fucked by him, it didn't matter. The only catch was that they were both still new to this - and Sam, personally, didn't want to mess it up or do something wrong.

Dean took the second ball into his mouth, repeating the motion with it before he climbed up his brother, tongue running over the head of the younger Winchester’s wet dick before dipping his tongue into Sam’s bellybutton, tasting the sweet stick of cum.

He turned to his brother’s left leg, grabbing the meat of the thigh in his fist as he sucked the underneath of Sam’s knee, teeth nipping as his nails bit along the larger man’s calves.

Sam brought his fist to his mouth and moaned, barely able to hold it back. He shot up, propping himself up on his elbows as he watched Dean with darkened eyes. He was entirely positive that no one other than himself had ever touched that part of his body, much less in a sexual way. Much to his surprise, it went straight to his dick. It was exciting, to feel something new, something he never expected to like in any capacity.

"Holy Hell," Sam groaned, he could feel the muscles in his legs twitching, "I want you."

The older Winchester looked at his brother, mouth pulling away from his leg, “What?” He wasn’t completely confused, but the comment threw him off. They were going slow, weren’t they?

“You mean, now?” He tried to clarify. The thought alone made his mouth dry and his heart race.

Sam blinked rapidly a few times and cleared his throat, "Yeah," His voice was uneven and almost cracking with nervousness, "I-I mean, unless it's too much. Only if you want it too." It wasn't really a conversation they'd had. The younger Winchester didn't have the slightest clue about what Dean wanted. If he wanted Sam to fuck him or if he wanted to fuck Sam, neither sounded like a bad option to Sam though.

Dean stared at his brother’s mouth, licking his own before kissing Sam, a careful, tentative brush of his lips before he nodded and said, “Yeah, I do, I mean... It’s fast, but what... We been brothers our whole lives, an’ you’ve known how I’ve felt for months, we’re both grown, consentin’ adults that’ve done this plenty of times. So, why not?” He swallowed.

_Why not, indeed._

He probably couldn’t top, even if he wanted too, his body’s mood was often very different than his own lately, but Sam would be fine, and he wanted it.

"You sure?" Sam asked and notched his brows together, he brought his palm to Dean's face and swiped his thumb gently just beneath his eye, "How do you wanna do this?" The younger Winchester slid his hand down to his brother's neck, then traced the pads of his fingers along his shoulder blade. It was sudden, but Sam had never been more sure of anything in his entire life. Even if it didn't happen right now, it would happen eventually. Sam knew that he wanted to give himself to Dean, completely, and in every way imaginable.

Dean’s stomach fluttered as Sam touched him, and he leaned against the fingers, goddamn, they were so warm, so strong and rough, sturdy, “I wanna, with... With you on top, Sam.” He wasn’t sure what kind of lover his brother was, but he was curious; open to it. He knew what Sam was like as a hunter, as a person and a brother, being a lover was a completely new side to the younger Winchester, and he wanted to see it, more than anything.

Sam nodded silently as he moved forwards, pushing Dean backwards as he laid his body out on top of the smaller man's. It had been a while since he'd had sex and he knew he was going to be rusty. The younger Winchester peered into his brother's green eyes, his right hand settling low on Dean's hip, "I don't wanna hurt you," He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to his brother's, smearing smaller kisses along his jaw and then down his neck.

“M’not,” Dean breathed as he looked down at Sam, “not real practiced here; I dunno how this goes. Maybe use lube or somethin’, I dunno.” He felt his cheeks heat with each of his brother’s kisses, the instant satisfaction of having Sam over him was almost overwhelming.

“M’not sure about how to do any of this.”

"Maybe," Sam mumbled against Dean's flesh, barely sticking the tip of his tongue out to taste it, "Maybe we **should** wait. Not for long, I don't think I could, but... I wanna make this good for you and I know I won't be able to if I don't know what I'm doing."

It seemed easy enough sure, but Sam knew that if he just stuck it in, not only would it hurt Dean, but it would likely hurt him too. And that wasn't the way Sam did things, he liked to be well versed on things before he went through with anything. It wasn't like he'd leave his brother high and dry either, there were other ways to go about getting off.

The younger Winchester moved down his brother's chest, his teeth grazing over Dean's right nipple.

Dean nodded, breathing deeply as the larger man began teasing him. He tried to relax more, to take it in as he’d been doing before, but the slight rejection, though reasonable and agreed with, had his stiffness wavering already; god dammit.

“Sammy,” He whispered, running his fingers through Sam’s hair and spreading his legs more for his brother’s body. He’d always known of the younger Winchester as a wide, broad man but, as a lover, well... The bow to his legs came in handy there.

"The wait'll be worth it," Sam's right hand roamed his brother's chest as he place opened mouth kisses down the center of his abdomen, "I promise."

The younger Winchester smiled against his brother's stomach, his lips practically sinking into the soft skin with each kiss. Yet another thing Sam didn't know he liked until now, how soft and pliable Dean was beneath him.

“I know, it makes sense,” Dean agreed, his stomach twisting as Sam kissed his skin, he felt often insecure with his appearance, in contrast to his brother.

Around women, there really wasn’t anything to compare himself to, and he knew he looked good, but Sam... Sam was practically a fucking sculpted god or some shit, it made him nervous. He tried to ignore it, not to let it bother him, but it was hard not to, when he’d been pressed against the firm muscles of his brother, and now... Sam was moving lower, and Dean’s erection was dropping like a fucking rock.

"I love your skin," Sam kissed outwards to Dean's hips, sucking lightly at the indentation, keeping his voice soft, "I love the way you feel." He ran his hands down the outside of Dean's thighs and back up the inside, "And your legs," Sam kissed lower, dragging his lips lazily down his brother's meaty thigh, "Could watch you walk forever." It was definitely something he'd spent the better part of the last three months doing, anyways.

Dean smiled slightly at his brother’s words, taking them in. It made sense, he knew the younger Winchester respected him, he supposed that could change into more; and maybe Sam wasn’t looking for a man as solid as he was, maybe he was fine with how much **less** Dean was. Maybe he preferred it. It was a comforting thought, he tried to take it seriously, accepting it as truth.

But his body was quite dissuaded. It probably wasn’t Sam’s fault, or Dean’s, at all, it was probably out of his control for now. But maybe, in time, he’d actually be able to get back his erection. Baby steps, and besides, he’d actually gotten hard for a lengthened time, he hadn’t been able to do that for a while now.

It was easy to see that Dean's arousal was faltering. Sam didn't say anything though, instead he looked up at Dean and grinned warmly before wrapping his hand around the mainly flaccid base.

The younger Winchester's heart was beating so rapidly he was positive that it was going to burst out of his chest. Another new experience, but he was glad it was with Dean. God knows he wouldn't do this for anyone else, ever. And, if anything, Sam wanted to try to get Dean hard again just to see if he could do it.

He flicked his tongue out and licked across the head of his brother's cock before enveloping almost the entirety of it, humming quietly around the soft length.

It was odd, the place that Sam was at, for Dean. Where he’d been wanting his brother’s mouth, for months now, but it was not the way he wanted it to be. He wanted to be rock solid, erect, sore with it, the head practically purple. Instead, _this_ was what he had to offer, it was embarrassing, and the thought wasn’t exactly helping.

The more odd thing about it was that it was **still** arousing as Hell, to see Sam’s mouth around his flaccid cock, to watch his eager attempt to get Dean hard, to not complain or embarrass him any more than he already **was**. It was a complete turn on to know that his cock was the first one to grace his brother’s tongue, to know that Dean had that, it was **his**.

He felt the stiffness start slow and drawling, but Dean was patient, concentrating on the desperate lips around his cock, virgin to another man, until now.

Sam continued, pressing his tongue flatly against the underside of Dean's shaft, hollowing his cheeks and sucking him down happily. He could feel the beginnings of an erection, the slight twitch and grow of the muscle the longer he paid attention to it, and it felt good, to know that he could get this reaction from Dean. Sam looked up at him, trying to convey everything he was thinking without words. That he understood, and that it was okay, and he'd do whatever he could to help.

Dean’s eyes met Sam and he felt his stomach twist nervously. It was frustrating, to need so much effort put out and to give so little in return. Sam deserved better. And, just like that, again, the erection was gone.

Dean sighed, reaching down and running his shaking hand through his brother’s hair. He’d tried, he’d tried to stay hard, but it was difficult when his brain kept jumping around, “Forget it, it’s fine,” he said, clearing his throat as he dropped his gaze.

Sam pulled off and licked his lips, frowning as he took his brother's hand and kissed the center if his palm. He didn't know what to say, so he tried his best to let his actions speak for him.

Sam moved back up, his hips nestled snugly between Dean's thighs as he softly pressed his lips to his temple. It wasn't anything Sam had ever dealt with, himself, but he'd be steady support for Dean whenever he needed it.

Dean closed his eyes as the lips pressed to the side of his head. If there was anything he was completely sure of, it was Sam’s ability to make him feel better about things that were out of control. Where Dean was in a wreck inside, and nervous, and embarrassed, Sam was still understanding and comforting.

He reached down, running his fingers over his brother’s dick, “I can get you off?” It hadn’t started as a question but, by the time he was done forming the words, that’s what it was.

"It's okay," Sam's words were barely just a whisper on his brother's skin, "It's not fair to you, I can wait." It felt good, but his own erection was steadily wavering as well. And truth be told, he wanted the both of them to get off the first time they messed around. It wasn't going to be this time though, that much was becoming clear.

Sam could feel his chest constrict almost, like his heart was actually hurting for his brother. The younger Winchester wanted to make him feel better, let him know he wasn't alone, and that he was loved, but he felt absolutely helpless and had no clue what to do.

Dean tried not to take the off comment as a rejection, but he couldn’t help it. He sighed, laying back and staring up at the roof. _Fuck_. Of course, he’d get something that he wanted, but not completely; _never completely_. There was always some sort of catch twenty-two, always something to stand in his way. And this time, it was himself. His own lack of an erection was turning his brother off. _Just fucking perfect_.

Dean swallowed and tried to breathe, tried not to let his heart beat race, or his hands ball into fists, but they did. He couldn’t help it. He was pissed. It wasn’t **fair**. The older Winchester shifted, pulling his right leg to his chest and over, removing Sam from between his thighs as he turned onto his side and faced away.

Part of Sam knew he should have just let Dean get him off, he could've avoided this, seeing him hurt even more. It wasn't rejection by any means, Sam wanted him more than anything. It was just that this situation was new and he didn't particularly know how to deal with it. One thing he knew he wasn't going to do, was give up on Dean.

Sam sat back, his eyes scanning his brother's body, "Is there a reason you pulled away?"

“Can’t imagine there **not** bein’ a reason,” Dean said, barely able to get the words out, “I’m sure you already know **why**. S’not a secret, I guess.” He was practically grinding his teeth as he spoke. They hadn’t talked about his personal issues since the first time, and they’d kind of done nothing but get worse. Making out with Sam, though, he hadn’t worried about it effecting his brother _as well_ , and it **was**. It was Dean’s fault, and how the fuck do you fix something like that?

"I still want you, there's no question about it," Sam said, trying to reassure his brother and fix things, "This is just a little bump in the road, shouldn't be reason enough for you to pull away from **me**." The younger Winchester wanted to reach out and just lay his hand on Dean's back, but he kept his hands to himself so that it wouldn't hurt when Dean just inevitably pulled away again.

“S’alot bigger’n you think, I think,” Dean said, turning to look at Sam, “Nowhere near my forties an’ I can’t even keep up my goddamn cock, what the Hell are we suppose to do, Sam? It’s... It’s been months now. Far as I know, over a year. I didn’t even have time to think ‘bout it in Purgatory, an’ now... I have you, an’ I can’t even get off, can’t even get **you** off. Just end up ruinin’ it for the both of us.”

"You didn't ruin anything for me," Sam shook his head and narrowed his brows, "Getting off without you doesn't really seem all that appealing to me is all. We'll figure this out, we'll fix it." The younger Winchester reached his hand out and grabbed Dean's, squeezing firmly and massaging the skin with his thumb.

Dean nodded slowly, “C’mere,” He said, careful, tentative words as he turned his body over towards his brother, laying on that side instead. He still wasn’t sure about ninety percent of his brother’s desires, but he knew what he wanted for himself, and it was probably best to start there, until he knew Sam well enough with this, to be able to gauge what his brother wanted to do.

Sam moved and laid down next to Dean, he draped his arm around his brother and pressed their noses together, "I love you," His voice cracked slightly, but he **needed** to get it out, "I'm not going anywhere."

It had been months since Dean had admitted that he was in love with Sam, but it wasn't something Sam forgot over the months. Instead, he tended to think about it, even analyzed his own feelings, and it scared the shit out of him when he realized how strong his feelings were for Dean as well. There was no other explanation for it, he was in love with Dean too.

Dean stared deep into Sam’s eyes for a good, solid minute as he leaned in, his forehead resting against his brother’s as he smiled weakly, “Thank you, Sammy,” His bottom lip shook as he reached up to the back of the larger man’s neck, running his thumb along the warm skin as he clutched onto Sam.

He licked his lips, mostly with an inner fire of frustration about not being able to get either of them off, he was still kind of worked up. Hell, he was laying in bed... _Naked_ , with his brother. Dean laced their legs together, pressing their hips flush, Sam’s cock still softly erect, his own as lifeless as a corpse, but he tried not to let it bother him, he tried not to think about it.


	4. Chapter 4

The older Winchester had been nervous with being even **slightly** intimate after that. He couldn’t help it, he was still very, very embarrassed over the entire thing. He knew Sam was going to eventually get impatient with him avoiding getting close, or the short, quick pecks on the cheek, some times the lips.

Dean had even went as far as to sleep in his own bed still. But he was trying, he was trying to get off constantly on his own, just so he had some kind of proof that he could **still** do it at all. It didn’t work, either he went limp shortly into the effort, or he just stayed sort of hard, and didn’t really get anywhere with it.

But goddamn, if it wasn’t every day that he looked over at his brother and stared. It hurt, to know that he could go over and kiss Sam, or touch him intimately, but that he **wouldn’t**. It was the most frustrating thing, to have his brother, and also _not_ have him. Dean was getting impatient, Dean wanted to fuck, he wanted to get off, he wanted to kiss Sam, he wanted to learn more.

Finally though, it was like something in him snapped at last. He’d been doing enough research recently, and he hoped... Goddamn he hoped Sam was still up for this.  
Dean looked to his brother from his spot on the ground at the foot of the mattress, watching the younger Winchester on his laptop. He then made a point of standing up, setting his knives back into their case, and then standing by the bed as he stared at Sam, waiting to be noticed.

Sam had been dealing with everything pretty well, considering things seemed to be a little strained and he could hardly get Dean to come near him. He knew that his brother needed time and it wasn't something he would ever rush him into, it was just difficult, wanting him as badly as he did and not being able to do anything about it. If anything though, it did give Sam plenty of time to get some research done, at least to the point where he knew what he was supposed to do, it was just a matter of following through with it.

The younger Winchester looked up from his laptop at Dean and raised his brows inquisitively, he was standing by the bed almost suggestively and just the thought of actually being able to be close to Dean had him throbbing in his jeans.

Dean stared into Sam’s eyes and dropped his folded arms from his chest, “C’mere?” He suggested as he’d had the last time they were close. He still wasn’t entirely confident with his ability to get off, but he wanted to try, he wanted to be close to his brother, he wanted to touch Sam again.

His feet felt nailed to the floor, and he was dressed down to a simple shirt, his jeans, and his socks. It was unusual, actually wearing so little of clothes, but he’d done it for a reason.

Sam's eyes raked the length of Dean briefly before he stood and made his way over to him. The younger Winchester put his hand on the left side of Dean's waist and pulled him a little closer. It had been too long since they'd been close in any way at all. Sam had almost forgotten what it was like to actually kiss him, the memory sitting distantly in the back of his mind.

This though, the awkward standing and lack of words had him confused, "Did you need something?"

“Just you,” Dean said as he blinked, staring up into the taller man’s eyes. His own weren’t watering from sadness or happiness, it was Sam’s presence, being this close, that had the older Winchester's eyes glassing over just slightly. The sheer force of his brother was intoxicating to be near, and Dean was already growing terribly hard just from the thought that he had to look up at him. Sam was so large, so much bigger than Dean, it was an advantage that he adored about his brother.

“Just need you, that’s all.” Dean licked his lips as he stared at Sam’s.

Sam cupped Dean's cheek and nodded before he leaned in and kissed him like he'd been wanting to do, breathing in heavily through his nose as he let himself be consumed with lust, even if only for a minute. He didn't want to move too fast though, still slightly unsure of what it was that Dean was wanting.

It was difficult to keep control, trying to keep himself at a slight distance until he knew for sure what this was, "Tell me what you want, exactly what you want."

Dean's toes curled against the carpet as his brother kissed him, he’d found himself leaning into it before Sam pulled away. “What I want is never really what I get,” He answered back sarcastically, “I just wanna be kissin’ you an’ shit or somethin’. I don’t care. I wanchyou an’ m’tired’a tryin’ to be all distant an’ shit when all I wanna do is rip your goddamn clothes off.”

Sam pulled Dean close so that he could _feel_ that he was on the same wavelength, wrapping his right arm around his brother's waist tightly. The younger Winchester had been hard before he even stood up from the table, throbbing and straining against the denim of his jeans just from the sight before him.

Sam smirked slightly as his left hand roamed the side of Dean's neck, "Then kiss me... _or something_."

“Sammy,” Dean said with numb lips and he felt like his entire body was throbbing with the jump of his cock, Sam’s words causing his dick to fill and he grimaced as it pressed painfully tight in his jeans. His brother **had** to feel that, it was impossible to not notice.

Dean reached up, taking the back of the larger man’s neck and pulled him down, pressing their lips together as he breathed sharply through his nose, heart racing as he kissed Sam.

Sam felt like he was going to explode from just the kiss, practically groaning against his brother's lips as he brought both of his hands to the smaller man's hips. He moved them both just then, turning their bodies so that the edge of the bed bit at Dean's legs. Sam slid his right hand up underneath Dean's shirt and pinched his left nipple as he rolled his hips against his brother's.

Dean’s body responded, arching against Sam as he groaned into his brother’s mouth, and he opened his own, tongue flicking over Sam’s bottom lip in a flurry of movements, his hands moving together to tangle in the taller man’s hair; pulling him down more. His cock was harder than he’d ever remembered it being, desperate, willing, needing release after so fucking long of denying itself. It was so **hard** , so tight that Dean almost couldn’t breathe.

Sam could feel Dean's excitement and it quite literally made the younger Winchester harder than he already **was**. He breathed heavily against his brother's mouth as his hands worked frantically at Dean's jeans buttons, sliding them down over his perfect milky thighs in no time.

More than anything, Sam wanted to take advantage of this. He was more confident in what he was doing and he wanted to get Dean off. Sam lifted the hem of his brother's shirt and tugged impatiently, "Off."

“Yeah, right,” Dean agreed, legs shaking as he nearly tore the shirt from his body and reached out to Sam’s, his hands were trembling as well as they began fumbling against Sam’s belt buckle. He was almost dizzy with the lust. It’d been so long since he’d been anywhere close to this, he missed the feeling, he wasn’t use to it at all, it was almost alien. But goddamn, the more he thought of what was happening, the harder he became.

Sam pulled his own shirt off up over his head quickly, unintentionally flexing his abdomen as he watched Dean undo his belt buckle. He knew that his cock had to of been practically turning purple with want, aching and leaking against his boxers. Sam reached out and ran his finger tips along the dip in his brother's hip, smiling as he did so.

“Goddammit, Sammy,” Dean took his bottom lip between his teeth and his forehead dropped to Sam’s shoulder as he finished with the belt, unbuttoning and unzipping the pants in one move before he shoved them down the larger man’s long legs, Sam’s cock just barely brushing his cheek as he pulled the boxers down as well.

He stood back up, touching his brother’s waist and guiding him closer as Dean's eyes dilated back.

Sam stepped out of his jeans that were puddled around his ankles and pressed his body to Dean's, he tilted his head so that his mouth was a breath away from his brother's ear, "Lay down." Before letting him go, Sam brought the lobe of the ear into his mouth and nibbled lightly.

The younger Winchester strode over to his duffel-bag in three long steps, he pulled out a tiny bottle of water based lubricant and made his way back to Dean. He stopped momentarily before the bed and drank the sight in. Knowing and being able to see how hard Dean was had Sam salivating.

Dean was eager to oblige, considering his legs were so wobbly that he could barely stand as it was. Thankfully, Sam’s back had been turned away, because he probably didn't sit down nearly as graceful as he’d hoped he had.

The older Winchester slid onto the mattress carefully, watching his brother’s backside as Dean laid down, holding himself up with his forearms. He felt small shocking tingles through the soles of his feet as Sam walked back to him and Dean’s eyes went to his hands at once, licking his lips as he spread his legs slightly, “Well?”

Sam grinned and climbed on to the bed, sitting on his knees between Dean's legs. He popped the lid to the lube and poured some liberally into his hand, after closing it he threw it off the side of the bed.

The younger Winchester leaned forward and kissed Dean as his lube slick fingers pressed against his puckered entrance. Sam looked at Dean and raised his brows questioningly, trying to make sure it was okay to continue. So far, things were going pretty smoothly, but he was growing impatient with himself.

“Yeah, m’fine,” Dean nodded in ascent. He was only slightly surprised that things had progressed so quickly, they hadn’t really had time to do much, but he was growing impatient as well. It’d been far, far too long since he’d done anything like this, and his entire body was practically vibrating with agreement.

The older Winchester spread his legs more, smiling nervously as he watched Sam’s forearm for a solid moment before meeting his brother’s gaze. His stomach twisted, reminding him of that first night together, how nervous he’d been, for an entirely different reason. Now, about the only thing he really cared about was getting them both off, and he didn’t care how.

Sam parted his lips as he slid the tip of his index finger into the tight heat, it was insane to think that it was going to be wrapped around him in little to no time at all.

"Tell me if I hurt you," Sam dipped his head down and pressed open mouthed kisses along his brother's inner thighs, pulling and pushing his finger in and out of Dean as gently as he could.

“F-f-fuck,” Dean shuddered as he sat up more, swallowing, eyes widening. He was fairly positive that his brother couldn’t really hurt him, he’d lived through some of the worst things imaginable, and this was going to be nothing in comparison. If anything, so far, it was only the slightest of burns, and barely that.

He watched Sam, watched his brother kissing over the insides of his legs, and Dean had to resist reaching out to touch him, keeping his fists balled within the sheets on the mattress, twisting them over his knuckles as his heart raced against his chest, threatening to break something.

The younger Winchester brought the swell of his brother's meaty thigh flesh into his mouth, biting down gently and sucking, bringing the blood to the surface as he left little marks on him. "M'gonna add another," Sam murmured against Dean's inner thigh, tracing his tongue lazily against the light purple marks as he slid a second digit in along side the first, curving and hooking his fingers, scissoring them as he stretched Dean.

Dean shuddered and arched, back bowing as his lips parted and he twisted his fists into the sheets even more. His legs bent and shook as he looked down, eyes meeting his brother’s.

He’d never had someone be so attentive to him, someone that took their time, and Sam’s mouth was on parts that even **Dean** ignored. His cock throbbed in eager anticipation, completely unlike itself the past few months, and it was ironic that Dean felt slightly embarrassed by just **how** desperate it was, but he could empathize.

“Sammy,” The older Winchester said as he winced at the burn, still nothing compared to every other pain in his life, “Please, I–”

Sam grinned against Dean's skin, replacing nips with lighter kisses until he reached his balls, his tongue yet again lashing out to taste his brother. He took a deep breath in, letting his lungs fill and burn with the scent of Dean, the warm musk and smell of arousal. Sam brought one ball into his mouth, sucking gently, working the wet, warm muscle in his mouth against it before he repeated the notion with the other.

The younger Winchester himself was light headed from the rush of blood to his cock as he continued to twist and stretch Dean out on his fingers. "Please what?" He asked, voice gravelly and hoarse with want, but he wanted to hear Dean ask for it, **needed** to hear it.

Dean’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head and he couldn’t stop his body from trembling violently, almost as if he’d just come out of ice cold water. First his legs, then his balls? It would’ve floored him, if he hadn’t been laying down already, and he was grateful for that.

He wasn’t one for begging, or being completely open, but it was his brother, and Dean couldn’t name how many times he’d went out of his way to belittle or embarrass himself, just for Sam’s happiness, it was really no different now; he’d give the younger Winchester anything, anything he wanted.

“Please,” He whispered, opening his eyes and looking at Sam, cheeks shading as he reached out and touched his brother’s hand, “Please, give me somethin', please. Touch me, fuck me, I don’t care. I just-I need you, more of you.” And if he really looked at it hard enough, that was practically the summary of his entire fucking life - needing more of Sam.

Sam closed his eyes, groaning as he licked a thick stripe up the underneath of Dean's length, flicking his tongue around the tip and then pressing it along the slit. He knew that he needed to get Dean fucked out and loose on at least one more finger or it'd be hell for his brother, but it was difficult to just restrain himself from hopping up and sliding right in. Sam shifted his hips against the bed as he leaned in and dragged his tongue along the fingers he was using to open Dean up, sliding between them and lolling against the slick entrance.

Instead of warning his brother this time, Sam just went ahead and added a third finger, slowly, "Jesus Christ, you're gonna feel so good wrapped around me. So tight."

“Goddammit, Sammy,” Dean pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, worrying it as his fingers touched his left nipple, thumb running over it in rough, short strokes. He felt overwhelmed, almost, like if he didn’t get something soon, he was going to die, or worse.

The older Winchester reached down and palmed his cock, drawling strokes that beaded pre-come against the tip. It was a feeling he wasn’t sure he was going to get back, being hard, and it had been something he’d just ignored before, took for granted. Dean swallowed and notched his brows as Sam stretched him wider, it was a more pronounced sting now, but it mattered little to nothing, it was Sam’s words that nearly had him stopping in his strokes. He **would** feel good, inner walls hugging Sam’s cock and clenching with each thrust, Dean couldn’t begin to name how many times he’d thought of it since he’d been back.

Sam pushed himself up on his knees as he continued to loosen Dean with his fingers, bending over to scrape his teeth along the divots in his brothers hips. It shouldn't have been as hot as it was, to watch Dean paw at his own cock so needily, so damn desperate. It left Sam's cock throbbing though, his mouth damn near hanging open just from the sight of it and he felt like he was literally going to die if he didn't get inside of him as soon as possible.

He twisted his fingers inside of Dean, pushing and pulling, his brother's overwhelmingly tight heat crushing down around them. "Think you're loose enough," The younger Winchester mused aloud, his own breath catching as he watched his fingers disappear inside of Dean, "Want me to fuck you now?"

“Try three months ago,” Dean said, voice heavy with lust. He’d wanted to take his time, to learn Sam, to get to know him, but right now, he just wanted a good, strong, solid fuck to get himself off, finally. They had plenty of time to fold around the sheets of the motel room in the heat of wander and enlightenment some other goddamn day. Now, now he just wanted Sam, wanted him in every way possible, wanted him in the last way left, the only uncharted area between the two of them.

Dean was just a breath away from it, and he was fucking tired of waiting, “Now, yeah, M’good now.” He wouldn’t care for the burn or the painful walking, or sitting - afterwards - but it’d be worth it, just to have Sam’s cock shoved up in him at last.

Sam chuckled as he removed his fingers, slowly, amused at his brother's impatience, "Okay." This was it. The moment that they had been gravitating towards inevitably for a while now.

The younger Winchester ran his still mostly slick hand along his own length, hissing at the contact as his head lolled back lazily. He hovered down momentarily, his eyes raking Dean's face heatedly, lingering on his lips for a few seconds longer than necessary, "How d'you want it?" Sam asked, the draw that he usually suppressed was coming out of his voice in the heat of the moment, "You want me to fuck you like this?"

He leaned down and smeared his lips along Dean's jaw, his mouth stopping a breath away from his ear as he wrapped his hand around Dean's cock and tugged, "Or d'you want me to bend you over and fuck you like that?"

Dean’s eyes widened and his cock throbbed at the second option, it was too tempting to turn down, “Would it be wrong f’I said I wanted the latter?” Just the thought of Sam fucking into him, the strong muscles of his brother... Dean, himself, was more of the slow, careful love-making kind, but he had a feeling that his brother wasn’t quite like that.

He wanted it. He wanted to see those muscles put to good use, he wanted to feel the extent of them, over-worked and aching as Sam thrust into him. The cases over the past few months, seeing Sam as that driven force by his side, Dean’d be lying if he said he wasn’t paying attention to his brother’s body, he’d felt the strength, fought against it, sparred some times, had it used against him; the thought of it being used in sex was... _Well_.

“Could you, just–”

"Didn't take you for the type," Sam's lips pulled up in a lop-sided grin, his hand still tugging at his brothers cock, up over the head with a twist and a flick of his wrist, "Roll over, keep your ass up for me."

The younger Winchester couldn't help but release the primal side of him, he'd always been that way, a strong and driven lover, demanding with the occasional dirty mouth. He leaned back on his calves, rubbing his dick between his fingers as he watched the older Winchester, teasing himself and making sure he was still slick enough so that he wouldn't hurt Dean.

Dean rolled over and arched his hips, knees sliding along the mattress and his head rested on the pillows, chest pressed against the bed as his spine bent up sharply with his ass significantly higher; this wasn’t a position he’d ever taken up before, that was for sure. He didn’t really trust anyone, and certainly not enough to expose himself like **this** , but he trusted his brother with everything he had. Dean would be a complete fucking tool for Sam, used in whatever means the younger Winchester wanted, anything, to know he was useful to Sam, to know that he had a purpose.  
He didn’t say anything of the like, he didn’t tell Sam that he kind of wanted everything to hurt, to be made by his brother, to have that strong force of Sam against him.

He didn’t say that he wanted to be real, that he wanted to be needed, that the breaths and gasps Sam would be reduced to would make Dean feel complete. He could expose himself like this, and hope that Sam understood, if he didn’t know already, how much of Dean revolved around him, he had to know that it applied to this as well. That, if Dean could give Sam this, this pleasure, even for a short amount of time, than he was succeeding; that he had Sam.

It wasn't necessarily ideal for Sam to just **fuck** Dean their first time, but I mean, come on. For one, they're both guys for crying out loud, they wanted to get off and this had been **kind of** a long time coming. And two, Sam wasn't completely insensitive to the fact that Dean was actually _staying_ hard consistently, and something competitive inside of Sam wanted to get Dean off before it began to waver, knew his brother needed it.

The younger Winchester knew without a doubt in his mind that he'd make love to his brother later, **really** make him feel it, show him how much he loves him and how much it means to him that he's exposing himself to Sam this way, offering himself up like a prize.

Sam reached out instinctively and slid two of his fingers into his brothers hole, reveling in the heat and grip around them before removing them again. "Perfect," Sam muttered as he shifted his hips next to Dean's, his hands squeezing the globes of his ass, spreading him wide as he slid his shaft between the cheeks, the head of his cock catching on the softly puckered skin, "Damn."

“Please,” Dean heard himself saying before he'd allowed it.

He knew he must look completely ridiculous like this, all naked and open for his brother, but if it was what Sam wanted, if he found it... _Appealing_ , Dean would lay there all fucking night, spread out on display, if he had to. He couldn’t name the times that he’d completely humiliated himself for his brother, but he would, and he’d do it again, and again, and forever until eternity to make sure that Sam got what he wanted.

The older Winchester wasn’t exactly sure what he looked like, probably a freckled mess of flushed skin and bowed legs, smaller in comparison to Sam. Dean couldn’t really get a visual of it, he hadn’t seen much of the backside of himself, but he knew Sam was right there, behind him, pressing against him, knees on the sheets between Dean’s legs and he didn’t care what the fuck he looked like, he was goo on the inside, and he’d be fine with the outside mirroring that, as long as Sam–“Come on, come on, Sammy, please.”

"Shh," Sam whispered as he bent his torso, leaning over as he peppered kisses down the knobs of Dean's spine, aligning the fat head of his aching cock as he began to sink in slowly, "I got you, baby."

The younger Winchester moaned low and throaty as the tip breached passed the tight muscle, the tight velvet heat bearing down on him, almost excruciatingly so. Sam slid a hand up Dean's back reassuringly, inching himself in further at a painfully slow speed.

Dean nearly swallowed his tongue at the sweet term of endearment, he’d never really had someone speak like that to him, call him some sort of nickname like that, ‘baby’, goddamn though, the effect it was having on him. He liked it. It was as if Sam was trying to take care of him, letting Dean know that he had him, he was in control, and he was going to give the older Winchester exactly what he wanted.

The cock forcing itself into him burned and pulled as his body gave way, but it was still really nothing to what he’d felt throughout his life, a little pain was worth the pleasure. Everything in his life was a give-and-take, and he was both understanding and willing for this one.

“More, more is fine, m’fine, Sammy.”

Sam knew that Dean could handle more, he was tough, willing and just ready to go - maybe even a glutton for punishment, because Sam wasn't exactly small. The younger Winchester on the other hand, although it felt good (mostly), it was still tighter than anything he'd ever stuck his dick in. Which was a given, yeah, but he stilled his hips and hesitated before sliding in further, filling his brother to the hilt.

Once he was completely in, Sam ran both of his hands up Dean's side, pressing his forehead to his brother's back, giving the smaller man time to adjust around him more than anything. He shifted his hips a little, feeling the tight vice of his brother's ass squeeze him, "Tight, just- just gimme a sec."

“Yeah, okay,” Dean breathed out, teeth gritted.

It hurt, it ached and burned, and spiked in pain, but he was fine. He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, it was stubborn though; difficult to relax a muscle that was made for resistance, and had never been used this way.

Sam was huge, filling, and Dean hoped, more than anything, that he couldn’t fucking stand after this. He was perfectly fine with the idea of wincing every time he moved afterwards. He wanted it to hurt, wanted it to feel so amazingly painful, like this, like if Sam changed position in the slightest, it would rip him open.

Dean reached back with his right hand and took Sam’s, his own shaking as he clasped his brother's fingers tight and breathed as easy as possible, given the current circumstances, “Goddamn, baby boy. Heavy.” He wasn’t completely talking about Sam’s weight, but that too, he could feel the pounds of muscle pressed against him, smothering his backside, and it comforted him more than anything.

When it felt like Dean's muscle was giving a little, Sam shuddered as he pulled his hips back, tantalizingly slow, the delicious pull almost driving him out of his skin. The only thing Sam didn't like about this angle, was the fact that he couldn't see his brother's face, couldn't touch him the way he wanted to, and he damn sure couldn't tell by his facial expressions if this was good for him. It would work for now though.

Sam reached around the best he could as he slid himself back in, a whimper escaping his lips as he wrapped his hand back around Dean's cock, his thumb teasing over the leaking tip.

The sound that came out of Dean’s throat was both unusual and new, a weak grunt of arousal, pain, and satisfaction. He pushed back against Sam’s cock, desperate for more friction, wanting the younger Winchester to just fucking **own** him already. He wanted it, more than anything.

Before he’d given the words a second thought, they were spilling from his lips, stumbling out in a scattered mess, “Goddamn, you feel so good. Want it, please, Sammy. Wanna feel more of you, want you movin’, goddamn. It’s–please, we got time for **time** later.” He hoped that it didn’t come across as rude, or as a plea to get it done and over with, so he tried to explain, “Can fuck for hours or some shit, but I just, I need to feel this, need you all ‘round me, please. Your arms... Everythin’, I just need.”

Sam's hips almost involuntarily stuttered with Dean's words, wringing a moan out of him. He wrapped one arm around Dean's waist, holding him close as he fisted his brother's cock, moving his hips in and out experimentally a few times before thrusting into him, hard. The slick slap of skin filling his ears as he panted against Dean's back, kissing the skin beneath his shoulders lovingly.

“Oh, god,” Dean gasped as it spiked up through him, lighting up everything and he fisted the pillow with one hand, the other grabbing the headboard to hold himself firm against Sam’s thrusts.

 **Goddamn** , it was **exactly** what he needed, the shear force of Sam fucking into him stole his breath each time and he began to move in response, pushing back in time to meet with his brother’s hips. It was perfect, it was _exactly what he needed_. “Sammy,” He choked, dropping his head and looking down at the hand on his cock. Dean’s knee stuttered as it weakened, slipping with one of Sam’s thrusts, “Fuck.”

Sam's brows were drawn tight, sweat making his long hair stick against the back of his neck and forehead as his hands slid to Dean's hips and he squeezed, hard, holding his brother in place as his pace picked up relentlessly.

"So fucking tight," Sam panted, his head lolling back as he slammed into Dean with enough force to make his own hips sting from the slap of skin.

A loud moan tore through Dean, ripping it’s way from his gut to his throat as Sam fucked into him so hard his toes curled. He swore he saw stars the moment it happened and he took Sam’s hand again, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said between each thrust, the mantra coming out of him as he dropped his hips slightly. He wanted to see his brother, but he wanted this force, this–“Sam, please, off, off the side, stand up...” He wasn’t sure how to convey the position, “By the bed, please, I... I wanna see you.”

Sam leaned forward and bit gently on the skin covering his brother's ribs, his mind nothing but a haze of lust and _want want want_. At Dean's request though, he pulled out slowly and moved back off of the bed as he walked around to the side of it, his cock aching and slapping against his chiseled stomach with each step.

He reached out and grabbed Dean's hips with a white-knuckle grip, his cock twitching at the give of his brother's skin as he forcefully flipped him over. He ran his hands down Dean's thighs before squeezing them firmly, his palms catching under his brothers knees as he pulled him close with a grunt, "This what you want?" Sam asked, smiling as his hair hung down in his face, hazel eyes sparkling with a hint of something raw, greedy, feral almost as he pushed Dean's knees up to his chest and aligned his hips and pushed back in, holding Dean so that he couldn't move.

"Want me to fuck you like this?" The younger Winchester snapped his hips down, using Dean's body for leverage as he fucked into him without wavering in speed or force.

Dean’s insides twisted, eyes widening as Sam’s words caused his cock to throb helplessly. If it wasn’t the hottest fucking thing he’d ever been part of, _fucking damn_. His brother had him practically falling to pieces before, now Dean was completely fucking boneless underneath those eyes.

He felt like the entire world had just tilted off it’s axis, as if the ground fell away and he stammered, “S-Sammy, fuck–fucking, _god_.” His words weren't really making much sense, and he was afraid that, if he said too much, all of the air would get away and he’d suffocate himself.

Sam was so strong, so heavy, so forceful on top of him, and now he could look up, could feel his body slacken under those eyes, watch the flex of his brother’s chiseled muscles. His cock was smearing pre-come over his stomach, filling his belly button with the white sticky beads and his mouth was as dry as a desert.

Dean licked his lips, one hand reaching to the back of his brother’s head, tangling in the wet, sweaty mess of the larger man’s hair, the other one grabbing at Sam’s shoulder, dull nails scraping lines down over the slick skin.

The younger Winchester's hips snapped back and forth, the force behind each thrust practically winding him, a slight trickle of sweat making it's way down between the muscles on his back, veins popping with his exertion. "Fuck - _ah_ ," Sam sobbed as he moved his left hand up to grab Dean's jaw forcefully, slipping his index finger into his brother's mouth as he made Dean look at him, fucking into him mercilessly, "You feel so good, Dean. So fucking tight."

Sam knew, without a doubt, that after fucking Dean like this, he'd have to make it up to him. In all honesty, he wouldn't be surprised if the older Winchester couldn't walk for a week. It was so difficult to keep himself in check, he didn't **really** want to, and the way Dean was begging for it had practically pulled this savage, fierce side of him out to wreak havoc on his brother's sweet little body.

Dean sucked and nipped the tip of his brother’s finger, eyes closing as he did so, before flicking open and staring at Sam as he took the length of it between his lips, smearing his tongue against the digit.

His knees pressed into his shoulders, punching the muscles as Sam’s hips slammed into him. It was breathtaking, perfect, almost overwhelming. Dean had to give his brother some serious credit, physically, he probably couldn’t pull this off himself, and he’d never had sex that was this rough, this violent, before. But every time he looked at his brother, he got that longing, that hunger to have it.

He shifted an arm between them and took his cock up, pumping it slow and careful, barely making it up the shaft once between three of his brother’s thrusts. Each time, it nearly knocked the breath from him.

It was almost surreal, to have Dean like this, showing his brother the one side of him he'd never seen. And, in due time, he'd show him a different, more loving, sensitive side with gentle touches and **that** was something Sam looked forward to.

The younger Winchester leaned forward as he removed his finger from Dean's mouth, crushing his lips against his brother's like he'd never be able to do it again, panting as he fucked into him, "I missed you," Sam blurted out, his voice broken and shaky, admitting things that were probably better off left said at another time, "Thought I lost you for good, didn't know where you were."

Sam slowed his thrusts and kept his body angled down so that he could stay close to Dean, his lips hovering the older Winchester's as he rolled his hips sinuously and achingly slow, wrapping his hand around Dean's on his shaft, mimicking the motions, "I didn't look for you-I couldn't bring myself to do it, I was afraid of what I'd find. Afraid I'd find out that you were dead and I'm sorry, I should've - I know that."

“S’okay, Sammy,” Dean said, breathless and wide-eyed as the larger man smothered him with his weight. It wasn’t though, it wasn’t okay at all, it **hurt**. It was a pain Dean had never known, but he wasn’t going to tell that to his brother. He didn’t want to grief Sam any more than he already had. It was bad enough, how he felt about it, he didn’t want to ruin things by making Sam feel that pain as well.

“I missed you too,” He said, trying to change the subject from Sam’s absence of searching for him, “Thought ‘bout you every day in there, ‘very minute. Don’t–don’t wanna be without you anymore, I don’t know f’I can take it, again.”

"It's not- **not** okay," Sam insisted, breathless as he rolled his hips, he wasn't an idiot, family meant something to them and it ran deep with an unspoken promise, a promise that he broke, "I'll make it up to you f'it's the last thing I do."

The younger Winchester leaned back so that they could both breathe. Leave it to Sam to act like a girl during mind blowing sex. _Figures_. Sam's hands found Dean's hips and he squeezed the soft skin, practically pulling his brother onto his dick, repeatedly, as the soft sound of skin slapping echoed through out the room.

Dean took his lip between his teeth for a few well-aimed thrusts, body shivering each time his brother shoved into him and he chuckled weakly, “I think this is a start.” His comment could’ve been about rough, hot, almost rude sex being the means of forgiveness, but he didn’t. He meant him and Sam, this, between them, words and apologies, care, concern, open honesty; being naked. He wanted to show Sam everything there was to see about him. Dean wasn’t sure how or where to start, but he figured this was something, some sort of foundation for the beginning of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam smiled, almost shyly and then it was gone, sheer determination and want overtaking him as he held Dean down by his thighs, watching himself disappear into his brother thrust after thrust. The younger Winchester was mentally kicking the shit out of himself, afraid that he might have staved off any chance of an orgasm Dean might've had with his sappy words.

With his fingertips pressing down into Dean's thighs, Sam nodded knowingly at his brother's cock, "Keep your hand on it, touch yourself for me," A few more quick thrusts as his head lolled back, "I want you to come first, wanna feel you come while you're wrapped around me."

“Yeah, I dunno,” Dean swallowed as he palmed himself, staring up into his brother’s eyes. He’d already felt the length soften considerably, and he wasn’t anywhere close now. He tried though, watching Sam, reminding himself of what was happening, his brother, the roughness, the muscles, the strength and force of the younger Winchester fucking into him.

He tried **not** to think about the guilt, the pain, the lack of concern from his brother, the fear of thinking Sam wouldn’t want him like this, the thought that it was sick, probably horrible, probably wrong what they were doing. He tried not to think about it, but his mind was on a tangent now and he was losing it.

“I dunno, Sam, m’not–”

"Fuck," Sam grit out, his hips still working fervently, "No, you're gonna get off. "

The younger Winchester wrapped his arms around and underneath Dean's waist, exerting his strength as he lifted the smaller man and sat down on the bed, sitting up as he kept his arms wrapped around Dean. This angle, position in general, allowed him to get insanely deep. The plus side, he could touch Dean more this way without suffocating the both of them.

Sam splayed kisses all along the older Winchester's jaw, resting his lips against his collar bone as he slid his hand between them, caressing his brother's cock gently.

Dean felt himself stiffen slightly as Sam just... just fucking picked him up like a goddamn doll. He moaned as the younger Winchester sat him in his lap, and Dean moved on top of him, the best he could. His head dropped to Sam’s shoulder, looking down between them at their hands.

It felt like a fucking game with his goddamn cock, a tug-of-fucking-war, trying to get the damn thing to harden up, but each pull had him thinking it was just softening more. And as he thought about it, concentrated on it, feared it was going to happen, it did. And now, there was no point even trying to coax it to life. Fucking _humiliating_. Dean couldn’t think of anything else but how completely fucking humiliated he was, that he couldn’t just fucking do this already.

It was slowly becoming obvious that Dean wasn't going to get off, his cock practically completely soft in Sam's palm as he tried continually to get Dean hard. The younger Winchester felt defeated almost, and the fact that he couldn't get Dean off seriously had himself flagging.

"Goddamn it!" Sam held his brother close, nuzzling his nose into the crook of his brother's neck, frustrated with himself, "M'sorry." If Dean couldn't get off, Sam couldn't really will his body to do it either - didn't want to; it was pointless.

The older Winchester sighed and stilled his movements again, wrapping his arms around his brother’s neck, kissing the side of his head and the top of his hair. He didn’t know what to say.

“S’not your fault.” It really wasn’t; it was **Dean’s** fault. Apparently his whole goddamn body was broke because being with Sam like this should be enough, it **was** enough, it _had to be enough_ ; and here he was, limp as a goddamn dead fish, again.

He was tempted to get up and move on, to have a pissy fit, or slam something, but he actually just wanted... Well, more _attention_. He wanted to know that Sam still _wanted_ him, that Sam wasn’t going to hold this against him, like he, himself was.

Dean shifted his legs, getting off of them and wrapping them around Sam’s waist instead, “Lay me down missionary, can you? Stay inside me.”

Sam nodded silently as he stood, his arms firmly around Dean's waist as he turned and laid him down slowly. The younger Winchester took a second to himself, not saying much of anything, just hovering and staring at his brother's face in awe, the one and only person in this world who held the power to hurt him if he wished and yet, Sam knew he'd never have to worry.

The spatters of freckles across Dean's face resembled dusted cinnamon and Sam couldn't help but smile and lean in, capturing Dean's lips with his own, lovingly.

Dean kissed back, still eager and excited, if not physically, than mentally. His body could sit there and deny him all it wanted to, but his mind still hungered for Sam, for the attention, for the love.

He didn’t care, or... He tried not to. He was glad though, grateful that Sam didn’t make him feel completely horrible and mortified. Dean’s hands touched his brother’s cheeks, pulling him closer, arching his body against the larger Winchester. He broke the kiss, face flushed as he stared into Sam’s eyes, “I wanna, you gotta know that, Sammy. I **really** wanna.”

"I know," Sam admitted and it was the honest truth, he knew that Dean wanted him and Sam didn't blame **any** of this on the older Winchester, "Doesn't make me love you any less, **you** gotta know that." The younger Winchester touched his fingertips to Dean's face tentatively, barely grazing his skin as he took another kiss, soft and chaste.

Dean responded again, hands tangling in his brother’s hair as his thighs tightened, squeezing Sam close. He broke the kiss again and shifted his hips, rolling his ass on his brother’s dick as he stared into Sam’s eyes, “Wish you’d let me get you off some how, I mean... For me it’s somethin’ that my body’s doin’, shuttin’ me down. Yer’s can’t really feel good.”

His hand ran up Sam’s waist, “You’re gonna get blue balls or some shit, you keep it up.”

Sam closed his eyes and rolled his hips down to meet Dean's, his body betraying him as his cock stiffened inside of his brother, "It's not fair to you. If you have to go without, then I can too." He ducked his head down and pressed open mouthed kisses along Dean's chest, Sam's hair tickling his brother's skin as he grazed a nipple with his teeth.

Dean arched and moaned, lips swollen from kissing, and his dull nails dragged over his brother’s back. “You do realize,” He said, trying to keep himself calm, “I’ve gotten off a good deal of times in my life, right?” Dean raised a brow, lifting Sam’s chin to meet their eyes again, “I **really** wouldn’t mind, you know.”

His lips ghosted over Sam’s, voice dropping significantly, “I wouldn’t mind you comin’ in me, _at all_.”

Sam's cock throbbed at the dull sting caused by Dean's nails, making him groan and shift his hips almost involuntarily, "I'd feel like I was using you," He rolled his hips slowly, cautiously, despite his words, "Besides, I'm a pleaser. If I can't please my partner, it just won't feel good for me." God, did he ever want to though, but Dean deserved better than that.

“Know what would please me? More n’ anythin’?” Dean hung on the question, staring still and serious into his brother’s eyes, “Seein’ you get off. I don’t care, you’re not usin’ me, that’s not how I see it at all. You come for me, baby boy,” He ran his fingers through Sam’s bangs and pulled him down, pressing his lips to the larger man’s ear, “Fill me up, Sammy. I want you to.”

Sam almost whimpered when Dean whispered in his ear, his hips bucking reflexively. This wasn't fair, but he knew that Dean wouldn't play some sort of mind trick on him and then make him feel bad about giving in later, that wasn't the way Dean worked. And if he was being completely honest with himself, it was hard to deny Dean of anything he wanted and **maybe** , just maybe, he kind of even wanted to anyway. But hey, whatever, he's only human and Dean still felt _really_ fucking good around him.

Sam dropped his forehead to Dean's shoulder and began working his hips slowly, in a lazy figure eight motion as he murmured against his brother's skin, "I love you, Dean."

Dean dropped his head back and moaned in appreciation, “I love you too, Sammy.” He licked his lips and smiled at the feeling of the larger man pressing into him. He wasn’t getting **nothing** out of this, just being intimate with Sam, having Sam above him, thrusting, getting off, it was more than he’d ever hoped for, and the idea of being able to get his brother off, that would help, hopefully make it easier, to do so himself; whenever the time came. Dean, though he couldn’t get hard, could definitely feel the satisfaction, could enjoy seeing Sam’s face as he came.

Sam breathed heavily against Dean's shoulder, occasionally looking up from under his bangs at those big green eyes. The tight heat of his brother enveloped him, driving him closer with each thrust, moaning and coming apart slowly as he continued to press into him, his body flush against Dean's.

The younger Winchester caressed his brother's cheek, his hand sliding inch by inch down his brother's body, wanting to feel every bit of his skin, down his arm and back up his side.

“Sam,” Dean whispered, all shivering lips as he lifted his knees, squeezing his brother’s torso. He could feel the soreness settling in, the beating his ass had taken from Sam before, goddamn, yeah, he wasn’t going to be able to sit properly for a good while. He was also pretty sure that his brother was bowing his legs even more, Sam’s broad body was shaping into him, fitting him perfectly, like he was–“Made for me, baby boy,” Dean didn’t even realize he’d said it aloud, his hands doing things of their own, one twisting in Sam’s hair, the other palming his flaccid cock.

"Made for you," Sam repeated in a hazy state of lust, agreeing wholeheartedly as he thrust into Dean with long languid movements, grinding upwards only after he was almost completely in, trying to hit the prostate like he'd read when he'd done the research. It couldn't be **that** difficult, right? The younger Winchester was sure as hell going to try though. Even if Dean didn't get off, Sam still wanted to make it as good as possible for the smaller man sprawled beneath him.

He smeared his lips along Dean's skin and up his neck, halting when he felt his lips ghost against Dean's ear, "You are," Sam kissed softly beneath his ear and his voice dropped an octave, "So beautiful like this."

Dean swallowed and smiled, pushing the long hair out of Sam’s face, turning to kiss his brother’s temple. He couldn’t really relate with that comment, he’d punned and joked on his looks often enough, but it never really meant anything. He could never actually find himself that appealing, when it came to Sam. Though, he was willing to let his brother believe anything, as long as he still loved him, as long as he still wanted this.

“Should let me on top of you,” He said, voice heavy with lust. He liked the idea of that position, with him on top, and Sam was free to run his hands over everything. Dean wouldn’t say it aloud, but he preferred that, he wanted Sam to touch him, he wanted his brother’s hands to cover his body like a goddamn blanket.

"Hold on to me," Sam said, instantly on board with the idea as he wrapped his arms around Dean like he had before and leaned back, positioning his brother on top of him as he laid back and stared up at him. And god _damn_ was it a sight to see. _One of these days_ , he thought, he'd take his time with Dean in a motel with a mirror on the wall or on the ceiling, show him just how beautiful he really is. The younger Winchester slid both of his hands up Dean's abdomen and chest, his eyes trailing along, trying to memorize this vision to his memory for later.

Dean shifted and settled on Sam’s lap, gasping as he placed his hands back on his brother’s thighs, arching his body and shuddering as the cock pressed inward. Sam’s fingers wandering over him caused the gasp to catch in his throat, and he began moving with slow, careful bounces atop the younger Winchester, feeling the dick, hard and desperate, as his muscles clenched around Sam.

If he could be like this, with his brother’s warm palms touching him, the sound of Sam’s haughty breath, all worn from sex, to see his hair messed through by Dean himself... He could withstand never getting off again.

"Ah, _shit_ ," Sam let out a guttural moan, his hands running down Dean's sides and settling on his hips as he thrust up into him, "Dean, m'gettin' close."

The younger Winchester lolled his head back against the pillow, his mouth parted as he tried to calm his breathing, his hands yet again moving, sliding down his brother's thighs.

“Sam,” Dean bit his bottom lip, one hand moving and touching the larger man’s, lacing their fingers together as he moved, as his legs lifted him up, as his brother’s cock brushed against something inside of him. He shuddered and moaned, cock throbbing halfheartedly.

“Oh,” He said, mouth popping open as he felt it hit again, “Sonovabitch.”

Sam tilted his head up, eying Dean curiously, able to see his brother's cock thicken a little. It was enough to have Sam mentally trying to stave off his own orgasm, long enough to see if **maybe** Dean could get off too.

"That feel good?" The younger Winchester asked as his left hand drifted back up his brother's body, his fingertips grazing over his nipples as he rocked up into Dean, his right hand grasping his brother's cock.

Dean looked down, watching Sam’s fingers as he panted, “Mhm,” he managed, body shaking as his brother thrust up into him. He was so sensitive already and, technically, nothing that had happened really gave his body that right, it was shocking, the feeling of his toes numbing as Sam hit that spot inside of him again, “God–goddammit, Sammy.”

Sam rocked up into Dean in earnest now, arching and trying to hit the same spot repeatedly as he jacked his brother off in a slower motion. The younger Winchester had picked up enough over the years, listening to Dean's rhythm from the other bed, the slick sounds from the shower, to know that his brother preferred it a little slow.

Sam was fighting himself, furrowing his brows and curling his toes, trying his hardest to get his brother off before he let loose.

“Fuck,” The older Winchester’s toes were curled so tight that they were hurting, and he couldn’t keep this up for much longer; the muscles in his legs weren’t exactly ones he’d worked on much.

He smiled in appreciation, reaching up and stilling Sam’s hand, “D-don’t, m’not gonna,” he leaned forward and kissed his brother, all heated and breathless as his hips rolled on the larger man’s dick, “S’okay, alright? You come now, please. Wantchu to, baby boy.”

Sam bit his bottom lip roughly and removed his hand hesitantly, planting both of them on either side if Dean's hips, holding on to him as he thrust up into him frantically. _God damn it, this wasn't right_ , but his orgasm was just _right there_. "Dean," Sam leaned up, still rocking his hips the best he could, holding his brother in his arms as his lips met Dean's, "M'gonna come."

The vein in Sam's forehead was protruding as he clung to Dean, tightly, moaning aloud as he came inside of his brother, pulsing and filling him up, "Sorry. I'm sorry."

Dean’s frame trembled at the warmth inside of him and he pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead, to the worry between his brows as Dean’s fingers ran through his hair, “S’okay, Sammy, don’t be sorry.” He kissed the younger Winchester’s cheeks, his lips, eye lids and the soft mole by his nose before staring into his face, “Don’t be sorry.” His brother was **far** too sensitive some times, but it was what he adored about him most.

He wanted to make sure Sam felt no guilt for this, not ever, “I wanted it, okay? We have plenty of time to do it right, but you can’t go torturin’ yourself, that’s **not** right of me to expect that of you.”

With one arm wrapped around Dean, Sam's other hand slid down the older man's thigh, sighing loudly as he pressed his forehead to his brother's chest, "Even if you wanted it, still wasn't right of me to use you for it."

The younger Winchester's already softening cock gave one last throb and Sam groaned, still keeping Dean as close as possible.

Dean pulled back and looked at his brother, “‘Use’ me for it? Sam, that’s my whole goddamn purpose on this fuckin’ planet,” He said, brows notching together as he stared at the larger man, “F’I can’t be that for you, then what am I?”

He covered his brother’s mouth, “Rhetorical question. But don’t you go thinkin’ that usin’ me is a bad thin’. I **want** you to. I want my body, me, I wanna be used by you, I wanna be **able** to be used by you, I want you to **wanna** use me. That’s what a fuckin’ partner is for. Comfort, ease, peace of mind. It’s my goddamn job, to satisfy you, so don’t go feelin’ guilty an’ feelin’ like it’s wrong. I... I got just as much out of it, f’not more, so m’not exactly bein’ selfless.”

"I don't see _how_ you got anything outta that, but okay," Sam ran his hands down Dean's biceps and pulled him back in, talking directly against his mouth, "Just don't pull away from me again, okay? I'm a big girl after sex, I get clingy and like to cuddle _and so help me God_ , if you use this against me later," He pressed his lips to Dean's, feigning a low chuckle, "I'll have to kick your ass."

“I’d like to see you try,” Dean whispered back, laying down against Sam’s body and holding him close, nosing his jaw line, “An’ I get everythin’ from this, from just bein’ with you, seein’ you fall to pieces, havin’ you thrustin’ in me, fillin’ me, havin’ your hands on me, kissin’ you, I get everythin’ from it.”

Sam trailed his fingertips down Dean's back and up again, repeating the motion just to touch him, "Never took you for the romantic type," He pressed his lips to Dean's forehead, "Kinda like it." And to think that maybe Sam was the only one who brought that out of him, made his heart stutter and swell with hope. See? A big _girl_.

Dean chuckled, kissing along the underside of Sam’s chin and jaw, “Mm, you’d be surprised, actually. M’not normally the rough kind either, what I asked you was... Well, kinda a first, really,” He admitted.

“I dunno, somethin’ about your body, some times I just wan’it in ways I... Ways I never wan’ed nothin’ before."

"I'm glad you like my body," Sam grinned, his hands still roaming Dean's back before settling on his ass, "It's all that rabbit food you love so well." That, and a good amount of working out, but that went without saying. It was nice to know that he was desirable to Dean though, and he'd make damn sure he'd keep it that way.

“S’funny, when you think ‘bout it, all this time I didn’t even lookit you like this,” Dean said, laying his cheek on Sam’s chest as his insides squirmed, the strong hands on him causing his heart rate to jump, “You were standin’ right by my side, all my goddamn life, an’ I didn’t even see it. When I came back... I... It’s like, it’s different. I didn’t even really notice it in the beginnin’, but m’sure it was there from the moment I hugged you. Wasn’t somethin’ I considered, ‘til my body did.”

"Makes sense though," Sam mused aloud as he brought one arm up behind his head, "The only constant we've had in our lives is one another." A little bittersweet, because of the fact of what Dean had said, that it was right there under their noses all their lives.

"Better late than never though, right?" Sam smiled sadly, wondering how different their dynamic would be if this had happened years ago.

“I guess,” Dean shrugged, ducking out his lips, “I still have a hard time just gettin’ ‘round it, was worse though. I couldn’t ‘ven think ‘’bout it without gaggin’. I, uh... It’s easier now. Kinda gettin’ to the point where I just don’t care anymore, ‘bout the norms. Our lives’ve never really been normal. Might’a been worse, f’it happened before now, I think. M’not such a black n’ white world kinda person, anymore.”

"To be honest, I don't think much about it," Sam responded, yawning and then kissing the top of his brother's head, "It is what it is. It's not something I really wanna think on, it'd probably give me a headache."

The younger Winchester rolled Dean off of him and to his side, he turned to face him, his voice just above a whisper, "I'm thankful it happened though, whatever it was that brought you to this," He leaned in and pressed his nose to Dean's, "Brought us together."

Dean’s eyes went to Sam’s lips for a moment, then back up to his brother's penetrating stare, “Yeah, me too,” He swallowed. “Still hard to think, that I can kiss you, any time I want, that it won’t mean somethin’ more’n that, that I won’t hafta explain myself.”

Dean touched Sam’s cheek, “M’sorry, for bein’ distant while I figured this out, m’gonna try to not do it again. I don’t wanna shut you out.”

"Take your time if you need to," Sam murmured and pressed his mouth to Dean's, just the faintest touch of lips, "I'm not going anywhere, and you should know that you don't _have_ to shut me out. You can talk to me, I'll listen." It'd be rough if Dean shut him out again, he wasn't really sure how well he'd handle it, after having _this_ , but he'd be there for him until he was ready - with arms wide open.

“F’I do, just uh, just do this again,” Dean motioned to them and the bed, “Should straighten thin’s out, or... Well, not really 'straighten',” He smirked. “I didn’t really wanna push you away, this time, it just sorta ended up happenin’. But, I want this, I want this with you. I wanna have you in every way I can.”

"Well, you got me," Sam murmured, tangling his legs with Dean's as he moved impossibly closer, his fingertips gliding across his brother's collar bone lightly, "That's one thing you don't have to worry about, 'cause I'm not going anywhere, even if you are stubborn sometimes."

Dean felt his chest pull at the touch, reaching out and running his own finger’s over Sam’s lips before kissing them, “Speak for yourself, Sammy.” He could get use to this, laying in bed, curled up with his brother, it felt like something that should’ve been happening long ago. If Sam hadn’t been _so_ stubborn, though, Dean was sure this entire thing would’ve ended messy.

Sam narrowed his brows in confusion, his teeth scraping over his bottom lip before returning another short kiss, "What's that supposed to mean?" _Speak for yourself, Sammy_. Was **he** planning on leaving? All of this was almost too much. It'd been a short period of time since Sam had found out. I mean, relatively, three to four months wasn't really a great deal of time in the whole grand scheme of things.

But in that time, after acquiring such knowledge, it helped Sam realize what he wanted out of life and in realizing that, he felt idiotic for thinking he could ever have a normal life. In what kind of a normal life did people hunt supposed fictional creatures and fall so hard in love with their older brothers that they didn't know if they'd ever be able to get up? _Exactly_. It wasn't normal, but it was them, embodied them perfectly and it was what he wanted.

“It’s nice an’ all, but can this actually work?” Dean raised a brow, “I mean, it’s what I want. An’ I get that you’re fine with fuckin’ me, an’ you care, an’ you like all’a this, kinda. But you’ve been on a straight line of gettin’ out of the business again. What happens when you wanna cut loose, an’ I don’t? What happens then? An’ how’re we suppose to keep goin’ with this f’you just wanna hang up your coat, an’ I can’t?”

It was something that’d been bothering him for a while. Dean couldn’t help but want to latch into his brother, to keep Sam on the road with him, but that stopped so many things. They’d always be running, always be chasing, they’d never sit back and breathe. And, eventually, one of them would die - and wouldn’t come back again.

“I don’t know what my life is suppose to be anymore, Sam. I just know what I want, an’ what I like, an’ that’s all I can do for it. But I don’t think it’s what you want.”

Sam sighed and relaxed his shoulders, his arm draped over Dean's midsection as he pulled him closer, "There is only one thing I know for sure and it's that I want you, wanna be with you and I'll do what I have to do to make that happen." It was far from an extravagant answer and generally vague, but it was the truth and he'd stand by it.

Dean ran his thumb along his brother’s jaw, eyes freeing themselves from Sam’s as he swallowed, “This relationship is nice an’ all, an’ I want it... But I don’t see it endin’ very well. I loved you more than anythin’ before this. I don’t know the thin’s I’d do, to keep you safe, now, now that it’s changed, now that my feelin's ’re stronger.”

"What are you trying to do?" Sam asked, his eyes still firmly on Dean's as he placed his hand over Dean's to stop him from touching him further, "We **literally** just got done talking about this and you're **already** starting to push me away again."

“I just don’t wanna jump into this with you an’ fall flat on my goddamn ass,” Dean tried to explain, turning to roll onto his back, “It’s serious. Doin’ this ‘tween us, it has to be treated, an’ careful. One wrong step an’ I’m goin’ off the side, an’ there’s nothin’ to hold onto. Messin’ up’ll ruin everythin’, for the rest of our lives. S’one hell of a gamble, Sam.”

"I've told you what I want," Sam reaffirmed as he rolled to his side, putting his back to Dean, "Give it time, you'll see I'm telling the truth."

One of the many things that irked Sam about his brother was that he always doubted and destroyed good things before they ever had a chance to evolve to something more. God knows he'd seen Dean do it enough with other people, _women_.

The younger Winchester understood that their situation was specifically delicate, but Sam could only tell Dean what he wanted so many times before he started turning blue in the face.

“I never said I didn’t believe you, Sam,” Dean reached across, fingers touching his brother’s back, “But it can still go really wrong. I wanna give you everythin', my entire life is... It’s for you, Sam. F’I don’t have you, I don’t have purpose. But havin’ you, intimately, in every way... It opens the door for more trouble, as well. It gives us a list, of more reasons an' more ways to fight.”

"A little bit of trouble and a few fights here and there sounds like a normal relationship, Dean," Sam muttered, staring at the old ugly lamp on the stand, idly, "It'd be worth it and you know it would."

Dean scooted over, pulling Sam back as the older Winchester wrapped his arms around Sam from behind and rested his chin on the larger man’s shoulder, “You’re right, I agree, baby boy.” He pressed his lips to his brother’s neck, “’m sorry I’m paranoid, I just... I’ve lost you in every other way, before. This one isn’t one I considered, an’ it’s definitely not one I wanna experience.”

Sam was a grown ass man, hell of a lot larger than Dean, and yet anytime his brother used that nickname, Sam felt all of seventeen again; hopeful and so full of adoration for his older brother that it bordered ridiculous. The younger Winchester melted into his brother, his fingers lacing with Dean's, "Told you I'm not going anywhere, can't lose this."

“From what I’ve seen,” Dean whispered against the shell of Sam’s ear, “People **normally** mean that, at the time. But they never really know what’s gonna happen, what’s gonna change. I can tell you that you’re everythin’, I can tell you that I’ll give you my all, that my only purpose is you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fuck somethin’ up, somewhere. What f’I do? I can’t know for sure, an’ neither can you. If we take this,” He nosed through Sam’s hair, kissing behind his ear, “F’we take this, for ourselves, an’ we keep it, f’we twist into each other so much that we forget what it’s like without bein’ in one another, that kinda fallout will break everythin’. That’s worth the risk? Sex, kissin’, this... It’s worth that?”

"If either one of us fucks up, we'll work it out," Sam answered, his eyes fluttering shut from his brother's voice against his skin and his lips beneath his ear, "And of course it's worth it, you're worth **everything**."

Dean considered that and nodded, kissing along Sam’s neck and shoulder before he smiled, “I haven’t really held you like this in a long time, not since you were little. Kinda brings a lot’a thin’s back.

Sam grinned to himself, his memory recalling the last time and he nodded minutely, "Too long," He breathed out, "Missed it."

Of course it had been easier back then, when Sam was smaller. But even now, now that he'd outgrown his older brother, it still felt nice to be held and to know that he was wanted.

“Mm, me too,” Dean said, smiling as well, “You’ve gotten kinda big though, ass don’t quite fit right, but...” He lifted his leg, wrapping it over Sam’s waist and burrowing his face against his brother’s neck, “Think we can make it work.” He wasn’t just talking about the position, either.

Sam let out a halfhearted, breathy chuckle as he laid his hand on Dean's thigh, squeezing and running his hand along the soft flesh reassuringly, "Yeah, we'll make it work."


	6. Chapter 6

As many times as Dean had woken up in this position with his brother, it was different now. Sam was bigger, he didn’t fit as well - as the small spoon, anymore. He smiled though, unable to help himself, and buried his mouth against the back of the younger Winchester’s neck.

Words couldn’t describe how terribly he’d missed this, how he woke up nearly every morning, trying to reach out from his bed, to Sam’s. And now he had this again. If anything was right about their situation as of late, this definitely was.

Aside from the heights being marginally different, their relationship was as well. Dean could slide his hand over Sam’s body, fingers brushing up the expanse of his brother’s stomach.

Though, before, he’d rested his hand either over Sam’s heart, or just on his stomach for warmth, now... _It could go other places_. His smirk deepened as his hand moved low, ghosting the soft curls of hair around his brother’s cock before taking it up in his grip.

"Mm," Sam mumbled, voice sleep heavy and his eyes still closed, he smiled, "Not a bad way to wake up."

The younger Winchester reached down and touched Dean's forearm tentatively as he nuzzled himself backwards into his brother's body heat, impossibly closer than before.

Despite being the _bigger_ younger brother, there was still something mildly comforting in knowing Dean would still take care of him, regardless of Sam being big enough and old enough to take care of himself. Dean would always be there, to be the protective older brother, to look after and take care of him, to love him and be everything he needed. That's essentially what the man had become to him. **Everything**. Dean was everything, wrapped up into one pretty little package.

“I think I know how I got such bowed legs, now,” Dean said, voice low and rough from sleep, “An’ I think that us sleepin’ like this is gonna make ‘em... A bit more _pronounced_.” His left leg had been wrapped over Sam’s waist most of the night, and sort of ached, but he didn’t mind, “When did you get so big, baby boy?” He hadn’t spooned Sam up since he was... _Maybe twelve? Maybe younger_ , he wasn’t sure.

“I think I remember you tellin’ me, once upon a time, that you were too old to be spooned,” He said, wet lips kissing along his brother’s neck as he continued a lazy pump of the younger Winchester’s cock, "Has this changed?"

"A lot's changed," Sam said, honestly, his breath hitching as his cock began to swell in Dean's hand, "But what's that saying? 'The more things change, the more they stay the same'?"

The night before had essentially paved a way to something new, something they'd experience together. But even though things were changing, some things never would; like how he looked up to Dean, even if it wasn't something he wanted to admit all the time. The older Winchester was an extraordinary person, brother and, what seemed to be panning out as, a lover as well.

Sam reached back and let the palm of his hand glide down the side of his brother's body.

Dean chuckled and shifted, rolling Sam onto his back and climbing into his lap, “I guess that makes an... Odd amount of sense.”

He settled his ass over his brother’s cock, leaning down and running his lips along the larger man’s neck, teeth nipping, tongue tasting the cords of muscle as his hips bucked against Sam’s stomach, “Tell me you’re in the mood.” Cause goddamn, he didn’t give a fuck if his own body wasn’t showing it, he was seriously horny.

He’d wanted something like this with Sam for a while now, even though the thought had made him sick in the beginning, it was still his own, and he was over that now.

Sam arched his back a little and exposed his neck more, giving Dean better access as a slow smile began pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm in the mood," The younger Winchester murmured, his hands making their way, slowly but surely, to Dean's hips. That was something Sam couldn't get over. How good the older man felt under his fingertips, and it never mattered where Sam touched him, Dean was nothing but soft skin and welcoming warmth. Sam lifted his hips a little, showing the older Winchester that he was, in fact, _in the mood_.

Though he was slightly sore from the night before, Dean half wanted to make sure his walk was impaired later in the day. He bit carefully at the underside of his brother’s chin and jaw, flicking his tongue along the salted skin before he moved his lips to Sam’s ear, “Want you,” He said, stretching his body over Sam, almost like a cat. His knees slid down over the sheets, his back arched as his chest and stomach met his brother’s, flush and heated as their cocks grazed one another, “Have anythin’ in mind, Sammy?”

"You started it," Sam said, voice low and sultry as he wrapped his arms around the older man's waist before flipping them, "What do you want? You've gotta be sore."

The younger Winchester's unyielding desire to have control of the situation was flaring up inside of him, waking him up more, demanding to show Dean that **he** could take care of him too. Sam leaned down and scraped his teeth over Dean's right nipple, his hair feathering about the older man's chest as he rolled his hips against Dean's.

Dean gasped and arched, body bowing to his brother’s mouth. His hands moved, running through Sam’s long hair, tangling in the mess of it as he involuntarily pressed his chest against the younger man’s lips, “Sore ain’t nothin’.”

He was breathless, cock jumping halfheartedly, “I still want you in me, more’n anythin’, I want you, Sam.” It was, honestly, all he’d ever wanted in his entire life, the needs and wants had just evolved, but the end result was the same - him and his brother, and nothing else but the road. “I don’t really care how it is, just put your goddamn cock’n me, or somethin’.”

Sam could feel his dick twitch, affirming that it was what his body wanted as well. The younger Winchester kissed across Dean's chest and bit the other nipple gently as he lowered his hand between them, finger tips massaging the older man's worn hole before delving his fingers in. There was still come oozing out of him from the night before.

Sam grinned as he pulled his fingers out, wrapping them around the base of his cock before sheathing himself inside of Dean. The glide in was almost effortless, his brother's muscles still lax from before. Sam's hand moved to Dean's hip, gripping him tight as he closed his eyes and eased out, then back in.

"Christ, De," Sam groaned, using the nickname he hadn't muttered since they were kids, back when Sam was _actually_ the little spoon. The younger Winchester undulated his hips slowly as he kissed Dean, heatedly mashing their lips together.

“Sammy,” Dean responded as if on reflex, goddamn, that was something he hadn’t heard in a while. He sighed blissfully as Sam filled him, still dragging his hands through the younger man’s hair, feeling it’s softness as his legs bent, knees lifting, feet sliding up the sheets. He felt so full with his brother, every inch of his insides being taken over by the man in his arms and he smiled, how the hell had they never thought of this before?

“Please,” He breathed out, thumbs rustling the younger Winchester’s sideburns in adoration, staring down at the mess of Sam’s hair splayed out over his chest, it was seriously getting long.

"I'll take care of you," Sam murmured a promise, hips working his length in and out of the older man slowly, his eyes now level with Dean's as he ran his hand up his brother's chest, "Give you anything you need."

This time was going to be different. Sam was going to take his time laying Dean out like this, adore the older man's body, make love to it. He wanted to make Dean feel good, that, and to show his brother a different side of himself, the more loving and sensitive side.

Sam had only reserved this kind of tenderness for one other person, and she'd been out of the picture for years. It was solely for the older Winchester now, and it would be, from here on out.

Dean blinked, staring up into his brother’s eyes, he tilted his head just slightly against the fluff of the pillows, licking his lips wet as he watched Sam, as his hands cupped the younger man’s face and he leaned up - pressing a soft, heated kiss to Sam’s lips. He couldn’t do a thing to keep his brother’s hair out of his face, couldn’t hold it back without it framing the both of them.

It was an unusual spot to be in, having Sam comfort him, it reminded him of- _God_ , of when Sam had jumped into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. This weird side of Sam, this protective nature he exposed some times. And now, here it was, being used as something sexual, exposing to Dean a part of his brother that he’d never imagined.

“Sam, I-” Dean felt his hardening cock pressing between their stomachs, suddenly eager and curious - and that made _two_ of them.

Sam hummed against his brother's lips as he felt the older man's hardening length, he smiled as he deepened the kiss, tongue exploring Dean's mouth as his hand slid back down the older Winchester's chest to wrap around the base of the shaft. Sam fisted the older man's cock in time with his thrusts, slow but not too slow, gripped nice and tight as he moaned into Dean's mouth.

It didn't matter if Dean stayed hard, didn't change a god damn thing. Sam would still make love to him, bring them closer. The only thing it changed was whether or not Dean got off, which was something that was long overdue. But everything happens in due time, he believed that.

“You’re hair’s so long, I dunno what to do with it,” Dean chuckled, “It’s gonna be a mess.” If Sam kept it up, at this rate it would be passed his shoulders, soon enough, he could wear a fuckin’ ponytail.

Dean ran his tongue over Sam’s lips, moving and kissing his brother’s forehead, his palm resting on Sam’s chest, over his heart, fingers brushing the anti-possession tattoo, “You ever think it’s weird, how we know one another so well, how these thin’s we see an’ touch an’ know about one another, now’re becomin’ somethin’... Sexual? Like I feel like I know you better’n anythin’ - anyone else, I raised you, practically. An’ now you’re fuckin’ me, an’ I’ve seen everythin’ from you. Terrible twos, learnin’ words, tyin’ your shoes, pimples, everythin’ I can think of. Now it’s... _Bigger_. It’s _more_.”

Sam stilled his hips as Dean's words started sinking in, he moved his hand from his brother's length and touched his face, the pads of his finger tips brushing the scruff.

The younger Winchester didn't know how to answer without getting too emotional, too sentimental about it. It wasn't weird to him though, not now, not at this point. Sure, at first it was all a little too much to take in. But he'd had time to process everything.

He shook his head subtly, intentionally tickling his brother's face with his hair, "I've thought about it, yeah. It's not weird to me anymore, though. I mean, it almost makes sense. I've tried my whole life to live for me, to be normal, to have a life of my own and... no matter where I go or what I do, I always end up back at your side. I think it's inevitable, there was never any point in living my own life, trying to do my own thing - not when so much of it revolves around you. I'm tied to you, De."

Sam kissed the corner of Dean's mouth and cleared his throat, eyes watering a little bit, "I don't think I'd have it any other way."

“Me neither,” Dean said, smirking and dropping his head back to stare at the roof, “Seems like you’ve always been in me, under the skin, under the muscles, in my bones. Some times I forget what life was like before I had you. Every thin’ I ever done, that was important, normally started with you. I don’t wanna know who I’d be, f’I didn’t have you in my life. You’re everythin’ I am.”

He combed his fingers through his brother’s hair again, shifting his hips and grinding himself on Sam’s cock, “I’m just thinkin’ a lot, I guess it’s just... It’s been on my mind since I got back, since I... since I started lookin’ at you like that. You don’t really feel the same anymore, an’ I wanted you to know.”

Sam grinned knowingly as Dean carded his fingers through the younger man's hair, his hips moving again, sliding his throbbing length in and out of the older man with ease. The younger Winchester related with what Dean had said, it was the same for him to a certain extent. He grabbed Dean's thigh and lifted it higher up onto his hip, adjusting the angling so he could get deeper.

"Well," Sam whispered, kissing along his brother's jaw, nipping his way down his neck as his pace increased a little bit, "Now I know and m'still not going anywhere."

“Mhm,” Dean breathed, he wasn’t sure whether it meant he raised Sam well, or raised him really, really horribly, but it probably didn’t make much of a difference. What was, was. And that’s the way it was always going to be. Though, Dean’d never imagined that Sam would, one day, be like this with him. He hadn’t anticipated that, and really, who the hell **could**?

Dean’s hands moved to Sam’s lower back, gasping sharply as Sam burrowed deeper into him. He wished he’d had this ages ago, the connection between them - by this time - would’ve been completely insane to imagine. More than brothers, more than twins and lovers, partners, companions, _one in the same_.

Sam reached down between their bodies and wrapped his hand around his brother's girth, smearing warm, wet kisses along Dean's collar bone as he began fisting the older man's cock, gently.

Being intimate like this, sharing their thoughts and feelings for one another wasn't really something he'd ever get tired of, it encouraged him, spurred him on. The younger Winchester snapped his hips, gasping and moaning as his brother's heat sheathed him over and over, hair falling all about his face and brushing along Dean's skin as he kissed the older man's chest.

“Ah, fuck,” Dean dropped his head back, one hand moving up to push away the long strands of his brother’s hair. The soft, slightly damp locks slipped through his fingers as he chuckled to himself. He’d never had the nerve to just reach out and touch his brother’s hair, though it was something very signature with Sam, Dean’d never actually been so intimate with it. But feeling the soft brush of it on his skin had chill bumps rising to the surface.

And then he was thinking of everything else, their cases, his brother, Sam, growing up, surpassing him in height, someone he’d picked on and teased, and adored. The same person he taught to walk, and shoot a gun properly, and saved the world with, too many times over to count. His baby brother, his partner in crime - **literally** , “My Sammy.”

Sam let go of his brother's cock long enough to bring his hand up to his mouth, wetting his fingers and licking his palm before taking the length back up in his hand, tugging and squeezing at a slightly accelerated pace. He grinned, warmly, and ghosted his lips over the goosebumps covering his brother's skin, feeling the soft raise of them on his mouth.

"Yours," Sam agreed as his hips pistoned, leaning up to brush his lips against Dean's, looking down into his bright green eyes, "Your Sammy." The bed had practically started squeaking with their movements, shaking as he thrust and pressed his forehead to the older man's, "Always."

“Mine,” Dean said, and Sam’s words were what had done it for him. He’d fought their growing relationship in the beginning, sickened by it, horrified, but he understood it now. It made **sense**. It was the only way things could be between them, without being messed up - ironically.

They had been formed together, made to rely on one another to the point that living without one another just... Wasn’t an option. What’s living, when half of your soul has been chipped away? Sam had always been his, and he’d always been his brother’s.

“You too, Sammy,” He smirked as his hand joined Sam’s, wrapping around the larger hand and _fuck, fuck,_ his **brother’s** hand, “Your’s,” He looked back, unblinking as he came, the fucking orgasm practically ripping itself out of him, legs trembling as a tear slipped down his cheek.

Sam gasped as he felt the slick inner walls crush down around him, clenching around his cock and almost making it hard to breathe or think.

He smiled, probably just as relieved as Dean was about the older man's orgasm, pressing his lips to his brother's ear as he murmured and came as well, "Mine." Sam groaned, hips slowing to a stuttering pace as he placed a bunch of frantic, happy kisses all over the older man's face and chest, palms smoothing over his brother's shaking thighs.

Dean felt numb, aching, wired, and wanting to curl up all at once, not particularly tired, just worn out. He could feel the stick of come on his lips for fuck’s sake and his tongue lashed out to taste it as he wiped his chin and neck. There were still small spasms running through his body, light sparks shooting up his spine and he looked down at the dribbling, oozing mess of his cock before laughing, “Son of a bitch.”

Sam chuckled as well as his hips stilled entirely, lapping at small splatters of come that Dean had missed, grinning as he observed his brother's sated expression, "Can't even begin to imagine how much better you feel right now."

He kissed the older man, still smiling happily over the fact that Dean had actually gotten off. That strong of a release was bound to undo the tons of tension his brother had been feeling over the past few months.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can really feel my legs right now,” Dean said as he chuckled, kissing Sam back and tangling his hands in his brother’s hair, “I fuckin’ feel like my cock just got hit by a goddamn truck.” Seriously, it was fucking **hurting** , bruising in force, but the euphoria of pleasure made it hard to tell much between the two of them.

“I’m just tired of feelin’ so guilty about wantin’ you the way I do. It may be wrong by other people’s standards, even most, but so is everythin’ else in the world, right? We saved it enough, we should get what we want, without regrettin’ it.”

"Then don't, don't feel guilty. I sure as Hell don't," Sam bumped their noses together gently, playfully, looking into his brother's eyes, "People would practically have to throw away everything they know, turn the world upside down just to understand this thing between us, what we feel for one another. To us, though, it feels as natural as breathing, and anything that feels this good can't be bad. I believe that, I do, and I couldn't regret any of this if I tried."

“Guess I was kinda one’a those people, even though I fell for you first,” Dean ran his fingers along Sam’s bottom lip, staring at it before leaning in and kissing his brother, “Took me long enough. But you’re right, it fuckin’ flipped my world on it’s axis, that’s for sure. I don’t mind,” He smirked, “I’m quick to adapt.”

"Quick to adapt, huh?" The younger Winchester's mouth pulled up into a lazy, suggestive smile before kissing his brother's chin, rolling his hips slowly as his softened member began to harden again inside of Dean.

Dean’s eyes lit up and he bit his bottom lip, “I seriously hope you’re implyin’ what I think you are,” He’d take ten more fucking orgasms like the last one, no lie. It was good to actually be in some sense of control for once, and the hardening of his own cock was a sheer sign of approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's the end. Me and Barb don't rly like these things to run on fer far too long, and they're normally intended to be **shorts**. I hope you enjoyed, tho. Ty fer sticking along, and hopefully enjoying our RP.
> 
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> 
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> 
> Now I gives you bonuses. E> [1](http://onlywincest.tumblr.com/post/31655476870/otp-challenge-wincest-spooning-dean-good), [2](http://onlywincest.tumblr.com/post/33295464291/i-dont-know-if-youre-still-accepting-prompts-but-sam), [3](http://bottom-dean.livejournal.com/316096.html), [4](http://www.deviantart.com/morelikethis/340788824#/d5i215r), [5](http://kakilily.deviantart.com/art/sketch-215890330), [6](http://wincest-j2art.tumblr.com/post/24012227236), [7](http://tyrotoxis.tumblr.com/post/1185580897/to-cheer-up-all-you-mofos-who-are-qqin-over-the), [8](http://wendigo.tumblr.com/post/16661953665)


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